Laconic
by Flying-Freely
Summary: TFP- Pre-War. Soundwave was a proud Gladiator, one of the highest ranking ones... Respected by many. Even so, he never lowered his guard down for a klik, especially not in the Pits. But, his vigilance has a cost... one that strangely looks like a femme. A femme that currently struggles to become a Gladiator. Soundwave/OC -Will eventually veer into TFP.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I have no idea why I'm starting another Transformers fic. It's probably because of my new found obsession over Soundwave. He says one line in the entire Prime Series and I'm in love with him.**

**A lot of things I happen to see a lot is an OCC Soundwave. Some people are skilled enough to capture his certain perceptive and aura, and some aren't. **

**I don't intend to make Soundwave out of character. I will make him as in character as I can. That means I'm going to observe him a lot as I watch more TFP episodes. **

**There are a lot of things I want to cover for my story, but I'm not planning on making it long. Just something you readers can enjoy. So, this starts out as a Pre-War fic. This takes place to before the war, then slowly going into it, all the way to after TFP. I won't re-write every scene, but I will interpret my OC somehow. Also, this is Soundwave/OC, just a heads up. **

**So, here's my first attempt at writing Gladiator Soundwave.**

**I do not own Transformers Prime, or any of its characters. They all belong to Hasbro. I only own my OC.**

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><p><em><strong>Laconic: (of a person, speech, or style of writing) using very few words<strong>_

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Soundwave didn't really pay attention to new comers.

It was simple; they either perished on their first orn, or made it lucky to stay mixed in the lower ranks. It was nothing that Soundwave had to worry of. Being a high ranking Gladiator, the only time he ever interacted with them would be when they fought.

He was one of the second highest ranking Gladiators there, Megatronus being the first. The large silver mech managed to beat him, albeit by so little. Soundwave would be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little bothered by that.

Though, it wasn't Soundwave's main issue. He dully remembered how Megatronus had deemed him as an equal, and of being a worthy opponent.

There weren't many mechs you could trust in the Gladiator Pits, and Soundwave wouldn't let his guard down too easily. Betrayal was something common, and more in pits. For now, both him and the silver mech would remain only barely acquaintances.

If Soundwave were to feel one thing towards Megatronus, it would be a small fraction of gratitude. Soundwave was online because of him, although, he was almost offline because of him, too. Megatronus' actions were suspicious, and for now, it was best to keep to himself.

He always did.

Soundwave was an observant mech, keeping any information only to himself. His unique frame was one that had the ability to store more information than an average mech. Not that Soundwave has had much use of it. Having space for data wasn't particularly useful when attempting to fight off other savage mechs. He was merely created with such frame, and he preferred not to alter it in any way.

That was how it was, and that was how it would be.

However, this did give him the ability to remember almost everything. Soundwave store information in case it was valuable to him. His impeccable sense of awareness was especially when he observed battle strategies from other mechs. It also served to catch the lowest of mechs.

Or... femmes. The memory flashed back in Soundwave's processor. It was a curious day, yes... but the least he wanted to be was interested. The scandalous events were still fresh as he recalled them.

That cycle... he was out in the stands, watching two mechs clean the arena. There was nobody there, as not many Cybertronians stayed in the after-glow of the fight. Most of them relinquished once their source of entertainment was gone. Soundwave found it pathetic.

The only reason he stayed after the fight was because his training had been complete for the cycle. He'd usually only stay in his private quarters, but he'd always had a knack for observing in secret. It was in his programming, and it wasn't particularity inauspicious for him to stay out there. Not that anyone ever saw him.

Soundwave settled in watching the lower faction mechs cleanup engeron from the arena. Not particularly interesting... It rarely was. Most of the time, mechs spoke about buying their freedom or overthrowing the owners, nothing Soundwave really paid attention to. It was like-wise to the mechs currently cleaning.

Abruptly, the hard clanking and shuttering of floor boards were heard. It was the sound of pedes. They were loud, metal clanking against the unsturdy floor of the stands. The steps reverberated across the whole arena, capturing the attention of the mechs cleaning it. The pede-steps gradually made their way closer to the arena, each one getting louder.

The sudden disruption was enough to impel Soundwave to get a better view. The sound of the pedes didn't stop, rather continued clanking forward until the owner of the steps were revealed.

A dark colored frame suddenly appeared in the arena, seeming to fall or from the upper stands. The Cybertronian landed on its knee joints, venting and cooling fans on high.

Even though the Cybertronian had its faceplates hidden, Soundwave could clearly tell that it was a femme. A femme. Femmes weren't usually seen in Kaon, and if they were, they most certainly weren't seen alone. They were usually with high Caste members, as high caste femmes should be. Others were just... another version of a pleasure drones.

Though, the dark painted femme in front of him was completely alone. No one seemed to come for her as she vented on the arena grounds, her helm kept low to the ground. The mechs cleaning stopped what they were doing and stared at her, a sudden hunger in their optics.

When the femme finally raised her helm, Soundwave saw her jolt up to her pedes. The femme glanced left and right towards the mechs, quickly backing up. She visibly trembled under the leering gazes of the two mechs.

Soundwave noticed that she didn't immediately call for help.

"What's a femme doing in the Gladiator Pits?" one of the mechs asked walking forward towards the femme. The femme continued to shake and back up. The frame posture of the mechs were that of a predator stalking its prey.

"I don't know, but it sure is lucky of us to find her _alone._" the other mech said, giving a gruff malicious chuckle. Soundwave watched intently. He didn't make any move to help the femme.

He was a strong believer that Cybertronians should be able to defend for ones self, or perish. He _especially _wasn't going to aid a femme who most likely sat comfortably in a higher caste, while he fought his way through every drop of energon. It would be the stupidity of the femme that would be the end of her. Soundwave was soon losing interest in the pitiful sight. Just as he was about to leave, he heard a cluster of metal.

He snapped his helm back and was less than surprised to see the femme with a weapon in her servos. No doubt it was from the Gladiator that had been terminated. The blue energon stained on to the broken sword proved it.

"S-stay back!" commanded the femme. The two mechs laughed at her empty threat. The quivering femme held up the broken sword, which shook in her servos. Soundwave stood in his spot, watching the events unfold. Though, his processor was already made up; he would not help the femme.

"Put down the sword before you hurt yourself, femme." the mech laughed.

The femme's fear quickly morphed into indignation. She gulped and bought it in the mechs direction. He once again laughed and made a move to grab the broken sword. The femme quickly took it away from his grasp.

"Go ahead. Strike us," the mech dared, "Here, I'll turn my helm so you can strike me right _here._"

They laughed at her, their raspy growls hitting the femme straight in the faceplates. Soundwave watched with new found interest.

The femme's startled expression slowly morphed. Her grip visibly tightened on the sword, and her pedes stepped closer. With a fierce cry, the femme brung down the sword to clash with one of the mechs legs. The mech cried out in pain as he brought down to the arena floors. Energon stained the femme's servos and splattered over the floor. The mechs legs weren't broken, but most likely very wounded.

The other mech growled in anger as he watched his comrade in pain. He roared towards the femme knocking the sword out of her servos. With a curled fist he stuck at the femme, making her drop to the floors. He heard her slight shriek of pain as she dropped on her side.

Her armor was dented and she looked up at the mech with hatred. The mech grabbed her neck and pulled her up. Sensitive wires in her neck were pulled with great amount of tension as she hung in the first of the larger mech.

Her servos grabbed the first that held her, attempting to break free.

"Now, now, _femme. _If you beg for forgiveness, I'll let you live long enough to know what pleasure feels like." the mech wryly snarled. The femme chocked out a simple response.

"F-frag both of you to the pits!" she hoarsely cursed. This made the mech furious, but before he could tighten his grip on her, her servos stuck out on him. Her sharp fingers made contact with him a great number of times. Soundwave was attentive enough to notice that the femme was sporting claws.

The mech yelled out, and fell to the ground next to his other fallen comrade. The femme was dropped to the floor. She landed on her knee joints and coughed. The noise of the commotion was enough to cause mechs to come closer. More importantly, the ones who ran the place.

As mechs came, Soundwave was also drawn closer, curious enough to see how the events with the femme would end.

One of the main owners stepped forward looking furious. Optics were narrowed towards the two fallen mechs, who struggled to get up. Meanwhile, the femme stood up, a mixture of anxiety and anger in her optics.

"What's going on here?!" the owner asked loudly. His voice rung with impatience and anger. The two mechs shifted under the glare of the mech above them.

"I-It was that femme! She done this!" one of the mechs stuttered. The owner only now realized the femme close to them. She was slowly inching away from the owner, and other Gladiators who stared at her lustfully. When the owner's attention was fully directed at her, the engeron stained on the her claws was the first thing he noticed.

The owner roughly grabbed onto the femme's arm, pulling her to look straight into his optics. The female yelped and fear quickly overcame her green optics.

Soundwave watched as she held the owner's gaze. No Gladiator spoke, afraid that the owner might lash out. That was never good; it always ended badly for the Gladiators when the owners weren't pleased. A certain tension ran through out the arena. The femme held herself in a way that made it look like she was trying not to shake. The owner's optics began to drift all over the femme's frame, taking in every little detail. The femme stiffened under the leering optics.

"You did this?!" the owner asked, tightening his grip on the femme's arm. The dark colored femme nervously nodded, her movements becoming frantic with a every word she didn't speak. "You come on to _my _arena and damage _my _property?!"

The femme didn't respond, rather averted her gaze elsewhere. The owner didn't seem at all satisfied with this, as he used his other servo to grab her helm and directed it towards his optics.

"Look at me." he demanded coldly. The femme's optics narrowed as a streak of audacity began to show. Though, this didn't fool the owner. He wryly chuckled. "I can sense your fear, _femme. _Your optics reek of it,"

When the owner broke optic-contact with the dark-colored femme, he turned around to face the Gladiators. His grip didn't loosen on her for a klik. She stumbled as he bought her to face the other mechs along with himself.

"What do you think we should do with her, mechs?" the owner asked, "We have a whole variety of possibilities." The arena reverberated with sly laughter. This caused the femme to shiver.

Soundwave was the only one who stood silent, as always. He knew that the mechs in this low caste craved a femme's touch. Most Gladiators didn't have enough currency to go to the 'special' place where femmes personally pleasured them. If femmes every willingly came to seek out a mech from the gladiators, it was rare that one came to a less-known Gladiator; most of them preferred the more high-ranking ones.. Soundwave had a fair deal of femmes that came to him, though that didn't mean he always accepted.

Soundwave had too much dignity to say that he was as lust-hungry as the mechs around him, for the femme that was currently held by the owner. He wasn't desperate nor unintelligent as to completely lose himself desire.

"Who knows, maybe this femme could be useful for me as well," the owner lowly laughed, the resonant sound full of malice. With a new burst of strength, the femme violently jolted her arm away from the owner's grip.

She looked at the mechs with bewilderment. The femme proceeded to back up, only to be stopped by Gladiators coming from behind. She gasped and turned to the owner, her optics shining with anxiety and anger. She fisted her servos.

"I-I won't do it!" exclaimed the femme. Her movements become more alert as the mechs pushed her into a circle. The owner gave a cruel laugh that rung in her audios. Soundwave watched the pathetic attempts of the femme.

"Willingly or not; you'll eventually obey, femme. Not only do you _owe me,_ but you are in my territory!" he exclaimed, his tone carrying the harshness of reality. The femme began to shake again, but the glare on her faceplates stayed.

"I'd rather fight Gladiators and _die_ than become an interface slave!" the femme proclaimed. She looked at her energon stained claws, and gave a forceful flick. A splash of blue energon landed on the ground, near the owner's pede. The femme glared directly at him, honesty apparent in her words. The sound of metal shaking seemed to betray the femme's dominant attitude.

It was clear to Soundwave that she was absolutely afraid. Similarly like the mechs, he stared at her, though unlike the others, the optics behind his mask only focused on her faceplates, rather than her adult frame.

The owner smirked, giving the femme a knowing stare. The femme's confidence immediately died down once she saw this. She shrunk back, running into the chassis of other mechs. The owner's optics brightened as a chuckle escaped his mouth.

"Interesting suggestion you made there," the owner dangerously chuckled, "Maybe you can be of better use." the mech dug his servos into her arm again. The femme struggled, but quickly stopped when she saw his glare. The femme was unable to produce any words as she choked on them.

"You are property of these Gladiator Pits, femme. Your training begins _tomorrow_. Your first fight is in an orn." stated the owner, "And unless she _fails, _nobot is to harm her... outside of the arena and training, that is.

"You will work your way up the Gladiatorial ranks like the others, and if you are to fail... my mechs here will gladly take what is left of you." the owner stated, his optics forever boring into the femme's processor.

Soundwave stared for a few kliks longer before making a move to leave. However, the owner quickly glanced at Soundwave, seeing that he was one of the nearest mechs in his sight.

"Soundwave, take the femme to the medic and to be inscribed in the battles," the owner commanded, "RocketShield, dispose of the two useless cleaners. The rest of you, back to your stations!"

The mechs grumbled and murmured among themselves, all talking about the new femme that had supposedly joined them.

Soundwave looked at her, behind his visor. He stood cold with indifference. The femme noticed all of the other mechs leave but him. She seemed to understand that he was Soundwave.

Without a word, Soundwave began walking, glancing slightly to see if the femme was following. She tentatively followed him, aware of the gazes she received. She gently rubbed her claws together as she refused to let them hang at her sides. The skittish femme stumbled on her pedes, before beginning to follow him. She took a deep vent and _attempted _tocompose herself. Her trembling did not go unheard.

Soundwave found it pathetically humorous in her attempts to appear indifferent. The femme kept her helm raised, trying to ignore any stare. It was also clear that she was trying to avoid looking directly at him. Not once did he feel her gaze on him. She constantly twitched and jumped at any slight movement, her optics kept darting in the surroundings, looking at everything but him. The femme also kept her distance.

She feared him.

The owner entrusted him to take the femme to the medic, because any other low ranking Gladiator would surely try something with the femme. The owner entrusted him... but he didn't feel 'honored' at all. He despised the owner. This was a burden to him, knowing that his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He should have left when he had the chance.

Though, Soundwave tried not to think too much of it. He was simply leading the femme. After that, she was no longer going to be his problem. The femme Gladiator would have her own issues to burden with. A femme Gladiator... how desperate was the owner for currency? As he stopped in front of the medic's quarters, he felt metal clank on his back.

Soundwave reflexively turned around and watched as the femme fell to the floor. She let out a slight groan and hesitantly raised her green optics.

Her optics finally made contact with Soundwave's visor. Her optics widened as the tall and slender mech stared down at her.

Soundwave didn't make any move to help her, rather stared down to see what she would do.

He relished in the sight. The dark-colored femme stood completely at his mercy. Her green optics stared fearfully up at him. She sat on her aft, her slender legs moving together and stiffening. Her chassis rose and fell as she vented. She was completely at his mercy. It was completely up to him if he ended her life. All it would take was one slice.

Soundwave slightly turned his helm towards the medic's room. The femme scrambled up, a blue blush staining her faceplates. She stubbornly looked away.

"S-sorry," she muttered. Soundwave didn't reply. He kept his helm turned towards the medics room. The femme followed as he walked in. An old medic stood there. Soundwave's visor was turned towards the ebony medic.

"Soundwave...? I wasn't expecting to repair you." the medic asked. Soundwave shook his helm and pointed at the femme. The femme seemed to take the hint and hesitantly moved closer to the medic. The medic's faceplates soon relaxed as he came into the realization. "Ah yes, one of the owners just contacted me about the femme. Though, he didn't mention you were bringing her." the medic replied.

Soundwave stood silent.

This seemed fine for the medic as he motioned for the femme to come closer. "C'mon! I don't bite, they'll be plenty of that for the arenas." the medic chuckled as his optics shamelessly scanned over the femmes frame. The femme seemed to have stiffened visibly. She slowly and cautiously stepped towards the metal berth. The medic patted it, and the femme soon climbed onto it, her claws gripping the edges.

The medic scanned the femme, as she struggled to appear unaffected. The medic seemed to be a bit too close for the femmes liking. Again, she refused to look at

Soundwave, but he knew better. Every klik, her optics would inch close enough to catch a glimpse of him. When Soundwave's helm showed signs of moving, the femme quickly averted her optics elsewhere.

"So, how's a femme like you get caught in the pits?" the medic asked casually. The wonderful silence was ruined by the gossiping medic. The femme's optics hesitantly turned to him as she took a deep vent. She took a moment before answered. The medic's raised optic-ridge encouraged her to answer quicker.

"I was running." she stated.

"From who?" the medic asked, becoming intrigued at the information he was receiving. No doubt the gossip would spread soon. Soundwave carefully listened for the femme's responses.

"From my carrier and sire." the femme replied. The medic began wiping the energon from her claws to check for any wounds on her servos. The medic raised an optic-ridge.

"Oh really? What happened? They didn't let you paint your frame?" the medic chuckled. The femme seemed to take offense as her optics narrowed.

"I hated my caste." she said. The femme slightly winced as her servos were being repaired. Then the medic went towards her neck-cables, and began assembling loose parts.

"Oh? You hated your caste? That's a new one. Prey tell, why? What's so bad with living with high-grade energon, and plenty of currency to spend? Too good for you?" the medic asked.

The medic obviously assumed that the femme was from a higher caste. Soundwave could see why. Many high caste members had blue, or sometimes green optics. The femme's armor seemed a bit too shiny, and seemed to give it away.

The femme didn't respond, rather glanced at Soundwave before looking down at her pedes. The medic didn't push any further as he fixed her major dents. Soundwave simply stared at her from behind his visor. He found that he didn't really care much about the femme, but at the very least... he was slightly interested.

"Refuel with whatever engergon they give to you. There was nothing major, but I suggest you recharge well before training." the medic prescribed. The femme nodded. Soundwave looked straight at her, and began to walk.

"Soundwave!" the medic called. Soundwave halted and slightly turned his helm towards the mech. The medic smirked and tossed a him a red-colored cylinder. Soundwave caught it with ease and stared at it in his servos. "Thought you'd like to do the honors." the medic stated.

Soundwave seemed to ignore the medic's comment as he proceeded throughout the door. The femme stumbled on her pedes before rushing to follow him. She gave the medic a few last glances, only to be met with a leering stare. They walked in silence. The femme's optics fixed themselves on Soundwave's back. He could easily feel her gaze.

"S-soundwave..?" the femme asked. Soundwave didn't respond as they continued walking. He remained impassive, not even tilting his helm towards the femme. She had said his name... and something about it he didn't like. As far as she knew, he could still extinguish her spark in the next klik. "Where a-are we going?" she asked.

The tall mech didn't reply. He merely continued to walk, and not show any signs that he had heard her. The femme seemed to be angered by this, as he heard her huff.

As soon as Soundwave sensed a metal object come towards him, he turned around and used his sharp claws to grasp whatever the disturbance was. He realized that he was gripping the femmes wrist.

The femme seemed astonished by the way her optics greatly widened. Her mouth was held open and it seemed she couldn't find anything to say. Fear adorned her once more. Soundwave realized that she was attempting to make some kind of contact with him... and he would have none of it.

If he wasn't sparring, or in an arena, nobody would touch Soundwave. It was a simple rule every mech there learned to follow. Now, here he was, glaring at the femme under his visor for breaking those rules.

The femme seemed to feel it. Her spark thumped violently in her chassis, and Soundwave was able to hear it from his position. After a few more moments, when it seemed like his grip was getting tighter, he let go of her wrist and continued walking. The femme gulped and quickly ran behind him, catching up. She used her servo to rub her wrist.

The femme soon realized that talking or trying to make contact with Soundwave was too dangerous. She knew this, and Soundwave knew this. And he liked it that way. Her fear could be to his advantage.

Again, he could feel her optics rest on him. A deep silence filled the passageways. The soft clank of their pede-steps was only heard.

Then they reached the inscribing areas. Soundwave was quick to start typing. He turned his helm in the femme's direction.

He stared at her and back at the inscribers. She stood there, wide optics staring at him with a mix of fear and confusion. He realized that the femme wasn't understanding to come closer.

Soundwave turned his frame towards the femme. She flinched back, but he didn't stop. He continued to walk towards her, his frame beginning to loom over her tense one. His helm was turned at her, and he turned back the the inscriber. His gaze trailed from it, and back to the femme. The femme's green optics widened in realization. She tore her gaze away from him.

The femme slipped from in front of Soundwave, to the inscribers behind him. Soundwave watched as she typed, her claws skillfully moving, the sound of clicks filling Soundwave's audios. Her sharp digits danced across the inscriber, similarly like his. Although, he was sure that he had more grace.

He slowly walked over, his visor tilting, ever so slightly, to watch what she typed.

There wasn't much to type. It would be simple for her. She was a new comer, probably with little experience with fights. The only thing Soundwave did not expect was her designation.

Her designation was Darkstrike. What an interesting designation for a femme from such origins. He assumed it had something to do with her dark paint.

As the femme finished typing, Soundwave quietly approached her, the red cylinder in his servos glowing. Just as the femme was turning around, he had roughly bought down the sharp point of the cylinder, digging into her waist.

The femme hissed out in pain. Soundwave stood emotionless at the femme's display. He wasn't bothered. He knew this was going to be done sooner or later, so he might as well have get it done now. He thought he was being generous towards the pitiful femme. If she had anticipated his actions, he was sure that she would have felt more pain.

The red-cylinder quickly emptied as the red liquid was injected in her. Once he saw that it was fully empty, Soundwave removed the cylinder, disregarding the femme's groan. The cylinder dropped to the floor, making a slight clank.

Soundwave observed the femme's closed optics. They were clenched shut. When they slowly opened, they blinked a couple times. He looked straight at them. They were no longer the green hue they had been before, rather a crimson red, just like the other Gladiators.

Gladiators' optics were always red. This was to show other castes that they were fighters. Their bright color of optics distinguished the Gladiators from other castes. Now that the femme was inscribed as a competitor, anybot that came to the pits, was able to bet on her. Not that they would.

"W-what was that..?!" the femme asked, looking at her servos and arms, testing if they were functional. Soundwave didn't reply. He had his visor turned towards her, a sign that he was definitely watching her.

He looked into her optics. He was able to read the distressed femme perfectly. Her emotions were laid out in from of him like an open data-pad. He could see her hidden rage, her fear, her slight interest... and _there _it was. The tiny fraction of innocence still laid in the femme's optics. Innocence sickened him.

It irked Soundwave immensely to see that tiny part of innocence she had. The femme didn't deserve to remain online. Once again, it made him want to wrap a servo around her neck and offline her himself. Innocence served to be terminated.

He realized that his visor had gotten significantly closer to the femme's faceplates, in a very threatening manner. His visor had gotten so close, the Darkstrike was able to see her reflection on it. She gasped.

"My optics...! They're... they're _red!_" she exclaimed. Soundwave made no comment. He simply backed up and began walking. He glanced at her and saw her posture slump, and her optics rest on the ground. She muttered soft things to herself while her servos rubbed her arms to in a comforting manner. Soundwave turned away, not wanting to watch the pitiful sight. While the femme had yet to shed tears, Soundwave was in no mood, (or even cared for that matter) what the femme weeped about.

After that, he had left the femme to herself in her chambers. The femme had wordlessly entered her new room, but Soundwave was able to catch the slight gesture of her optics narrowing directly at him. Why was she studying at him? This femme didn't even have the right to _glance _at him, much less glare.

The next time he encountered her, he would make sure to quickly rectify that. He would teach the femme that she could not do as she pleased. She was in the Gladiator pits now, playing by the rules of a lower caste.

Now in the present, Soundwave had scolded himself for letting her consume his thoughts. He would leave her into her own pit and let her learn. Darkstrike... would be a waste of his time, she was simply a femme not worth any klik of his.

That's how it would stay. New-comers usually didn't matter to him. Many of them failed in their first fight, and he was sure that the same would happen with the femme. If she managed to last through training _and_ her first fight, then Soundwave would have to think twice before underestimating her. Although, to him, it was unwise to think the femme would be capable of much.

So, he would watch. And he would observe. Soundwave would see how long she could survive.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1! This won't be many chapters if I continue to write at this pace. So yeah, I tried my best to make Soundwave in character. I tried, is the key word. I might have made him to... eh. But, that's my interpretation of him. You know... a mech of few words. I don't believe Soundwave was rude, no, I just believe that he's an intelligent enough mech to know what is useful to him and what is not. I mean, you don't expect him to just magically fall for her at first sight. <strong>

**No. **

**As for the optic changing, just a quick idea. I wanted the femme to come from a higher caste, yet still eventually have red optics for later on. Just something I want for future references. **

**That is what I have so far, but I can't wait to write some more! Please give me your thoughts in a review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you to the people who were kind enough to leave me a review! You were all very wonderful! You have no idea how relieved I was at having some encouragement! All of your reviews made me extremely happy. The comments were very gradable and I couldn't help but smile like an idiot. :D ****Seriously! I even got a person from the allegiance of the Autobots to read this! My life is complete! **

**Sorry Autobots, Ima Decepticon. xD**

**Since I'm not making my story as long, I will make time progress while still keeping a steady pace. I hope you all don't mind.**

**Also, I realized that I made a mistake last chapter. Megatronus' optics were blue before the war really started. So, instead, I'm going with the fact that Megatronus was literally born into being a Gladiator, which means that if he was one of the first in that specific arena. So, the owners didn't bother changing his optics to red because they only began doing it when Megatronus was already older. That's my headcanon.**

**Just in case there is some confusion~**

****Frame- Body****

****Servos- Hands****

**Pede/s- Foot/Feet**

**Audios- Ears**

**~Time~**

**Joor- 13 hours**

**Cycle- Day**

**Klik- Second**

**Orn- 13 minutes**

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><p><strong>Clairvoyant- <em>exceptionally insightful, able to foresee the future<em>**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Darkstrike woke up early the next cycle. It wasn't like she could get much recharge. How could she? It would be waking up to the first cycle of her new life... it would be petrifying. She was fully taking in her new position and she wasn't sure she embraced it yet.

Darkstrike was a femme Gladiator. A. Femme. Gladiator. How was she supposed to use that to her advantage? She would suffer, she knew. Yet, there wasn't much Darkstrike could do about it. The power of her freedom had been stolen from her; no longer in her grasp. _So, this is what it feels like to be in a lower caste. _Darkstrike knew that probably all Cybertronians of this caste were treated that way.

She had always been used to having some power, even if it was only from herself. Now, even her own individual rights had been taken away as she was treated like property. Darkstrike sympathized the mechs in these Pits. Even she knew that it was unjust... granted... Darkstrike was in their pedes now.

They had to withstand it every single cycle, just to remain online!

She shook her helm. There was no good in sympathizing them when she could do nothing about it. Darkstrike's processor wandered off to other things.

Her red optics looked up at the ceiling of her chambers. Her red optics stared blankly. _Red_ _optics_. Darkstrike didn't mind her new color of optics. It erased the memories of the ridiculous caste she was previously in. She was growing weary of her green ones anyway. Darkstrike despised the color of green and how the color oh-so-proudly represented her caste.

Green symbolized growth, harmony, freshness, fertility, growth, hope, and occasionally peace. Green, as opposed to red, meant safety. Though Darkstrike _knew_ (and preferred to think) that green was associated with ambition, greed, and jealousy. It was also associated with cowardice, and discord. All which she thought most suited her previous caste. To Darkstrike, they were all a hypocritical, disgusting group of Cybertronians that dared called themselves peace makers.

Now, her optics were red to symbolize her current low-caste. Red meant energy, war, danger, strength, power, and determination. The color was meant to be affiliated with vigor, willpower, rage, anger, leadership, courage, longing, malice, and wrath. The color of the optics were honest and true to the caste it represented; _Gladiators_.

It would soon be her turn. She couldn't hide from the reality that she was going to have to fight with any strength she had. Darkstrike may not have had brute strength like the lest of the mechs, but she had their brute rage. As much as it _pained _her to admit it, Darkstrike knew she had let her anger guide her towards violence. (Which eventually led to the disowning of her creators.) There were the couple of times when she would be involved in a skirmish or even kliks of malice with others. Any potential she had for fighting was not completely unused. Darkstrike's problem was that she hadn't honed such skills in an official battle. Her lack of precision, skill, and strategy would lead her lower than the Pits... literally.

She couldn't rely only on pure instinct anymore. Darkstrike was smart enough to know that. She had to pressure herself in training, because if she failed her first battle, her next stop would be in the little interface box. Not that being (most likely) one of the first femme Gladiators wasn't already enough pressure.

Oh, no. She wasn't scared.

Darkstrike was _terrified_.

She stood up from her berth. Darkstrike couldn't deny that she was still tired, though, she preferred to get up on her own terms rather than most likely having a mech escort her out. She slowly unlocked her door and was met with the corridors her room was located at. They were empty. She began to hear gruff voices echo through the halls.

Darkstrike assumed that the mechs were up. She didn't know the procedures there, and nobot bothered to explain them to her. Currently, she needed energon to fill her tank. Darkstrike hesitated. She wasn't sure where to get it, and going towards the mechs didn't exactly seem promising.

After a few klicks, she moved forward. Darkstrike decided that her method would be trial and error. She would experiment and see just how far she could stretch her luck... that is.. if she had any.

By the loud and exuberant voices of the mechs, she inferred that, that might be a place with energon stockings. The medic that spoke with her yesterday suggested that she consume whatever energon they gave her. His statement meant that they were probably going to give her a portion of energon; probably a small one.

Darkstrike nervously made her way through the end of the corridors. Her pedes made soft clanks that were hardly heard. The sudden bright light at the new opening made itself apparent. There was a door. Darkstrike entered and was greeted by the groups of mechs that stood there. All of them paid her no attention. That was, until one of them did. Once her optics made contact with another red ones, the mech began to get the attention of his acquaintances. Little by little, more pairs of optics turned to look at her. Most of them were red, but there were one or two pairs that were blue.

She felt a shiver pass through her back-struts. Darkstrike continued to walk through the small passageway. She nervously glanced at all malevolent hunger that the other optics held. They all audaciously roamed around her frame. Darkstrike attempted to remain indifferent... just like Soundwave had.

She could really learn from the silent mech. Her optics scanned the crowd of mechs, secretly searching for only one. When her optics were able to barely _glance _at Soundwave, her spark nearly leaped out of her chassis. Confused by the sudden reaction, Darkstrike turned away.

Soundwave was a very intimidating mech. Darkstrike was hoping that she would never, ever have to take him on. She was sure that she would easily get beaten. Soundwave was much more well armored than she was. His upper body promised a lot of success, as well as his long arms. He didn't even need to say anything for him to cause fear to overcome her spark.

He didn't damage her yesterday, but it seemed that his movements projected a threatening tone to him. Yet, Darkstrike was scared to say that Soundwave was the only mech she new so far. Though, that didn't mean anything good. Darkstrike was sure that when he got the chance, Soundwave would... Not that Darkstrike was particularly interested in making friends there. Her primary focus was to survive.

Darkstrike pointed her optics towards a large counter. She caught a glance at a mech recieving his cube. Darkstrike travled closer, ignoring the other Gladiator's calls.

The mech behind the counter didn't seem particularly interested in her faceplates, and kept his optics lower. Darkstrike wasn't about to say anything or remark about it. What could she be able to say? She was a femme that was frightened and obviously intimidated by the larger mechs. She was an averagely tall femme, but that wasn't really an advantage. There were mechs that were taller and shorter than her, but in the end, most would beat her.

It was also obvious that her useless threats would have no effect on the mechs. Darkstrike was sure that they would merely laugh at her while continuing to stare. A femme was never taken seriously in her previous caste, much less in this one.

"Designation?" the mech asked. His abrupt words were enough to startle Darkstrike out of her thoughts. Her red optics widened at him. The mech returned the stare with open amusement and contempt. The mech chuckled at her. "Do you _know_ your designation?"

Her eyes narrowed with indignation.

"Darkstrike." she stated. The mech chuckled yet again. He looked down at the data-pad. Darkstrike knew what he was doing. Her wide knowledge of technology was able to make her realize the system. It wasn't an entirely complex system. Each mech got a specific amount surplus of energon. The other names on there most-likely got more energon, by the higher numbers she saw. The mech checked her off the list.

Darkstrike noticed how the mech was carelessly and probably unintentionally revealed the data pad. Her optics narrowed up at him. The mech hardly regarded her. He must have thought that she was just as oblivious. _Frag him. _

Letting the trivial fact slide, Darkstrike picked up the energon cube in her servos. Darkstrike examined the low contents but didn't say anything. At this point, she was grateful to be getting _something. _Darkstrike wordlessly dismissed the mech at the counter. It wasn't as if he would pay attention to her intelligence rather than her frame if she stayed.

Then came picking a seat. Darkstrike realized that there were no actual empty seats in the large room. Some mechs noticed her constant glancing over the seats they sat on. They gave leering grins.

"If you don't have anywhere to sit, you can sit my lap!" one suggested loudly. Many Gladiators began to suggest likewise the the mech. They laughed and stared at the femme for her response. Darkstrike chose not to say anything.

She avoided their dirty stares and went to a secluded corner off to the side. She ignored their jokes and lewd comments. Darkstrike made sure to keep her distance with them; she was sure that they would reach out to touch her.

The dark-armored femme sat on the dirty ground of the room. She pushed her legs to herself and looked at her energon cube. She dimmed her audios to avoid listening to the laughter. Her optics lifelessly stared at her energon cube. Darkstrike slowly sipped it, savoring every drop. She took a great intake, not even glancing up to see the half-surprised expressions from the mechs that knew of her previous upper-caste status. An upper-caste femme, choosing to sit on the dirty ground rather than to take chances with them...

Darkstrike continued to sit there and waited until most stares left her. Her helm rose to see a familiar mech standing up. Her optics watched attentively as he moved towards the door. Soundwave expertly moved passed all the mechs. Unlike the other Gladiators, he disregarded her completely.

Never once did Darkstrike see his visor turned her way. She wasn't sure whether to be offended or not. It should have alleviated her that he didn't care... shouldn't it? Darkstrike stubbornly tore her optics away from her.

_My prime goal is to **survive**._

She sat there, holding her energon cube. Darkstrike was _planning_ on sitting in her less-than-comfortable spot... until heard the thump of pedesteps. Her optics quickly averted upwards. She clenched her cube. Her claws twitched as she warily narrowed her optics up at them. Staring down at her were a group of mechs. Darkstrike didn't say anything, and tried to stop her inner quivering.

Her systems ran cold, but her faceplates _almost_ showed nothing.

"How rude of us not to offer the femme a seat."

"We're not being gentlemechs, are we, now?" one slyly chuckled. The three of them laughed at their mock politeness. They were insulting her. They thought themselves superior than her. Just like her previous caste.

"Femme, if you stick with us, and do us a few favors, we can get you through this... terrible experience." one lewdly suggested. She realized to what they were implying. Her optics widened.

Darkstrike curled her claws into a fist. She clenched her denta shut. Her red optics rose to meet theirs. She fought her first insinct to pounce on one of them and unleash her anger. Though, her rage would most definitely not be to her advantage. She wasn't sure how skilled the mechs before her were, and it was highly possible that they could easily pin her while she was in her enraged mode.

Darkstrike stood up slowly, her height passing only two of the mechs. One still stood taller than her. She fumed. Her red optics glared at them before returning to their previous dull color. Darkstrike realized that they were baiting her. They were waiting for the moment when she would crumble and fall.

She stared at them dimly before beginning to walk away.

The mechs seemed thoroughly displeased with the response, for the largest one gripped her wrist. She was forcefully pulled into their circle. Her optics widened with bewilderment and fear.

"Running away shows cowardice. Are you a coward, femme?!" the mech asked, digging in his fingers deeper into her wrist. The mechs around them continued their loud talking, but Darkstrike knew that their optics were on her. They were all watching her. A sudden thought crept up through her processor.

Was Soundwave watching her?

Not a nano-klik later, there was a beep. A loud one. The mechs in the room began to stand up and head for the door. The mech snarled at her before deeply smirking.

"You're not going to last a cycle here, femme." he stated. He roughly pushed her away, making her stumble back. Darkstrike glared up at him while rubbing her wrist. The mech ignored her and his group followed him out.

She assumed that their training was about to begin. It was time to see if the mech's assumptions would be proved right.

* * *

><p>Darkstrike continually punched the obstacles in front of her. She realized that her stamina and strategies needed much improvement. After countless joors of punching and constantly running and keeping light on her pedes, Darkstrike was beginning to become tired. Her servos were dented, and her claws were beginning to take the impact as well.<p>

She jumped over the spiked metal, but her landing was sloppy and mistimed as she rolled on her side. The spiked metal return, only to hit her roughly. Being caught off-guard, Darkstrike fell on her chassis, the sound of metal collapsing against metal resounding. She groaned as she felt energon threatening to leak out of her.

She remained on the ground for a bit, liking the way how comfortable it currently was. She needed a break. But, it seemed that the other mechs thought differently.

A familiar medium-ranking mech came her way, unnoticed. He imprudently kicked her side, hurting it in the process. Darkstrike flipped to her back, and watched the the familiar mech from earlier, above her.

"Get up, femme! Your training hasn't finished yet." the mech commanded. Darkstrike attempted to get up, only for her limbs to wobble, causing her to fall back to the floors. She let out a hoarse curse.

"Figures. A femme... a Gladiator? How could Explo even _think _about making you Gladiator? Femmes are only good for one thing, and one thing only; interfacing." the mech snarled. Giving the femme another forceful kick, he left her to herself.

She gave a few coughs and gripped the floor beneath her. Darkstrike seethed. She was furious. That arrogant mech had just shown his dominance on her. She felt utterly useless. Darkstrike didn't want to let a self-proclaimed mech believe to be her superior.

Her claws twitched, and something in her systems heated up. The dark claws uncontrollably shook, but Darkstrike ignored the sensation.

She moved her arms to support her weight. They wobbled, but Darkstrike forced them to stay put. Firmly planting a pede on the ground, she slowly stood up, clutching her side. Darkstrike moved to grab a broken piece of metal on the floor. Looking at the mech who had stupidly turned his back to her, she threw it in his direction, never taking her optics off the target.

The mech immediately turned around, looking enraged. His optics widened with slight disbelief and anger when he realized that it was her doing. Without saying a word, or even returning the arrogant expression he once wore, the femme turned around to resume her training.

Just as she turned towards her obstacles, she saw him; Soundwave. His helm was turned her way which suggested that he was watching the scene. Darkstrike stiffened to a near painful degree.

He had been _watching_.

Her spark felt like it was trying to lurch out of her chest. Oddly, it didn't feel like fear. She forced herself to turn away and tried to ignore the stares she received. Darkstrike prepared for the worst as the medium-ranking mech came her way.

* * *

><p>Darkstrike was aching. She was absolutely exhausted. She had scratches all over her paint, there were dents on her frame, energon leaked through, her protoform ached, and her legs were just about to give out. They had commanded her, pushed her, worn her out, thrown punches at her, kicked her, leered at her, threatened her, yelled at her, and even humiliated her.<p>

Yet, she couldn't have felt more at home.

It was a good pain she felt. One she was not accustomed to, but that didn't mean that Darkstrike didn't welcome it. There was no hypocrisy. No lies. Only pure, harsh, painful reality.

The medium-ranking mech, which was designated as RocketShield, had truly punished her for her acts of disrespect towards a higher ranking Gladiator. Apparently, he was allowed to "train" her for the cycle.

_Frag him. _

Darkstrike laid on her berth. Her limbs were sprawled out as she refused to move. She chuckled at the ceiling. The smile didn't leave her lips. She had an absolutely horrible cycle, but at least there were no shadows.

Sure, it was unpredictable. But, it was better than it being useless and predictable. Darkstrike would no longer worry about how things would occur when it would truly become hard. She was now living in hard times, and it would surely only get harder.

Her red optics finally represented something she was. Something she was proud to be. And, for the first time, her spark had been at peace.

* * *

><p>That femme lasted through he first cycle. <em>Barely<em>.

Soundwave observed her well. He noticed a couple things. He noticed how... restrained... she was. A real Gladiator would have lashed out when given the chance. It displeased him and lowered his expectations. Not that he had much for the femme.

He saw the group of mechs toy with her. Soundwave thought that the femme would intent to try a weak attempt on them, or perhaps cower back like a mewling sparkling. Instead, the femme had wanted to leave the mechs to themselves.

That _would_ have been smart...

if she had intimidated them first.

Darkstrike only succeeded in angering them. He had seen the clear rage in the femme's optics. It was a burning fire, waiting to be fully ignited. Much to his disappointment in the femme, she had extinguished this fire, and let the mechs intimidate her.

That stupid femme would need to learn sooner or later what exactly she had to do to survive in the Pits.

Soundwave was less dissatisfied when he had seen her train. The femme had certainly trained. She didn't seem afraid to lash out and practice on obstacles. Although, he already had his suspicious.

The femme had preferred sitting on the ground, (although that wasn't saying much.) She had also mentioned of running away from her Creators. Something about her attitude suggested something towards a certain disliking. The femme also never seemed to complain. However, this didn't surprise him much.

Soundwave was hardly ever surprised.

Then, there was that moment when he had let the femme know that he was watching. Her red optics looked directly at his visor. The femme had immediately stiffened, which pleased him. His first intention hadn't been to frighten her, but it seemed that not many actions were required to achieve this. This left Soundwave satisfied.

Soundwave wasn't always watching her. The stupid femme had just managed to get in sights every time. Where ever he was, she didn't take long to arrive. Similar to when he saw her limping to her chambers after training was over.

She had managed to stay one piece. Darkstrike had survived her first cycle. _Not_ _impressive_. Now, she had to survive the rest of them.

Soundwave shook his helm. The fragging femme was the only interesting piece of entertainment there. The mechs there were boring and Soundwave was weary of watching their predictable actions. The femme, on the other servo, was a whole data-pad waiting to be unraveled.

Though, he convinced himself; He was not interested in her, only in the source of entertainment. Soundwave would see how predictable _Darkstrike_ would be.

* * *

><p>As expected, the orn went by in a flash.<p>

It went by too fast, in Darkstrike's opinion. Granted, an orn wasn't long on Cybertron.

She practiced long and hard. Her paint had gotten less shiner, ridding her of any evidence of her being in any higher caste. She wore minor dents, and her aches had eventually gone away. Though, the worst had yet to come. Darkstrike expected herself to be most affected by the battle itself than the mere training.

The mechs didn't lessen their taunting or humiliation. Darkstrike had only gotten more tolerant of it. (Lucky for her, the hadn't grabbed her again.) Her anger was taken out at the dummies and obstacles. That wasn't to say that she didn't care about the insults. She wanted so badly to dig her claws into their frames to get back at their infuriating taunting. Each cycle came with a new taunt, all of them featuring the same suggestions.

The only upside was that Darkstrike discovered that if she avoided RocketShield, she could train on her own. She hoped that she would always only train on her own. Much to Darkstrike's relief, she didn't need to spar with any of the mechs, as that was mostly optional. Darkstrike knew it would aid her greatly to actually spar, and get a feel of what it would be like, but she had denied herself this.

But, Darkstrike knew that if she failed... she might as well have been programmed to be a pleasure drone.

It was time to see if her training had paid off. Darkstrike knew that she needed more, to actually be 'efficient,' but one orn wasn't exactly a long time. Nor was it good time for her to get an upgrade. Darkstrike didn't have well enough armor to battle in. She had no weapons to defend herself with either. Apparently, that wasn't in the rules of her first fight.

All she had to do was fight the mech until either of them was unable to. This would be a combat fighting, no weapons allowed.

If she won, she got her upgrade. She would get more appropriate armor for the battles. The armor Darkstrike currently had was thinner than she would have liked it to be for battle. The thickest armor was positioned at her wings. She wasn't a seeker, no, she was only a flyer. Seekers constantly craved flight and held their wings up high in pride. Her wings were always lowered, not to mention a dark color, so they were almost never noticed. Though, the mechs mostly looked at her frame, so Darkstrike wouldn't be surprised if they found out she was a flier after a vorn.

Darkstrike could only hope she would last that long.

Another thing she would also receive, was an actual weapon to fight and train with. That would certainly be helpful. She noticed that a lot of the mechs there didn't carry around their weapons, or didn't have any. Darkstrike realized that they preferred brute strength for their way of training. Unfortunately, all she heard was that the only weapon of choice would be a sword. Guns weren't allowed in the fights.

Darkstrike unconsciously wondered if Soundwave would be watching. She shook her helm. Of course he wouldn't. Darkstrike -apparently- was hardly worth his time. His constant ignoring and silence only confirmed this.

It seemed that the high-ranking Gladiator had better things to do. They had only interacted one other time since her first cycle there... And that was only for a few cycles. So, why was Darkstrike so interested in him? Perhaps it was because their second interaction... had been an _interesting_ one.

The memory still vivid in her processor.

Darkstrike had not wanted to deal with the dirty comments from RocketShield that cycle. So instead, she wandered down the corridors of the surprisingly large place. There were different halls, probably for different ranking mechs. Darkstrike had inferred this by the cleanliness of other corridors compared to hers. (Well... as clean as Gladiator Pits could get.)

Not considering if it was harmful only sightseeing the halls, Darkstrike continued on her path. She wasn't sure what halls she was entering, and instead let her instinct guide her. It wasn't "instinct"... but more of her spark. Her spark demanded her that she enter the hall. Darkstrike ignored it, that was, until the tugging of her spark had increased. The sharp pain was minor, but unfamiliar. Seeking to get rid of it, she simply obeyed.

Darkstrike took turns, going left and right, until she finally ended up in one of the cleanest corridors there. She stood there and her red optics marveled at it. There were less doors, most-likely because not many mechs made it this far into the ranks.

Darkstrike could only dream she could make it that far.

Rudely, interrupting her thoughts, was her spark that sharply urged her to continue. She glared down at the tugging and deeply sighed. Darkstrike continued down the halls, her pedes producing soft thuds. Her curiosity and spark led her to one of the doors. It was a door that looked like any other, and she wondered why she chose to stop at that specific one.

Darkstrike stood in front of the door, staring intently. A few kliks went by.

Much to her horror, the door hissed open, revealing a tall mech. Her optics first made contact with the upper chassis, as her height was probably shorter than him. Her optics looked at his very long armored arms and hesitantly veered up towards the faceplates of him.

Not to her surprise, she only saw a visor. Darkstrike had somehow already suspected this. Her optics widened and she took a step back.

"Soundwave..!" she gasped. The mech took a step forward, making Darkstrike back up into the wall. The door behind him hissed shut. His helm tilted in a questioning, yet threatening way.

"Corridors: Prohibited." he spoke. His voice sent her spark to a wild pulsing. She used her claws to cover it. Darkstrike did not miss the threatening edge his voice held, while still having a tone of its own. The rough voice sounded like it fit right in, yet Darkstrike couldn't help but notice how different it was.

"Apologies. I was lost." she lied. Usually, lying wasn't as difficult to her, but doing it in front of Soundwave seemed almost... risky. His optics weren't revealed for her to feel his boring and judging gaze, though somehow, she _felt _it. Darkstrike's attitude faltered and her optics drifted towards the floor as Soundwave's visor didn't leave her direction.

Suddenly, his long arm was slammed up against her. Darkstrike was pushed against the wall. A small growl left her mouth as she felt the familiar feeling of being restrained. Soundwave didn't miss it.

Darkstrike began struggling and only stopped when Soundwave's helm inched closer to hers. His sharp fingers pressed against her, threatening to puncture her protoform through her armor. If Darkstrike moved, his claw-like fingers were sure to cause damage. Darkstrike flinched back, pressing up against the wall further. She resisted the urge to shiver or shake in fear at their small proximity. Darkstrike stiffened in his grasp against the wall. She tilted her helm to the side as his visor was only inches from her.

"Femme: Lying. Reason: Ignorant curiosity," Soundwave uttered in her audios. Before Darkstrike could fully process his captivating voice through her audios, Soundwave was already gone.

Since then, Darkstrike decided that it was good that Soundwave ignored her. It was what she had to do to survive.

Snapping her processor out of her thoughts, was an all-too-familiar beep. Darkstrike clenched her energon. Her battle was about to begin.

**..-..-..**

Darkstrike was in the large arena... surrounded by many, _many _mechs and femmes. They all shouted, encouraging the violence. A lot of them laughed and jumped in their seats, cheering for the energon that would surely stain the grounds. Darkstrike felt disgusted. They all looked over her, only wanting a source of entertainment. They would eventually toss her away like an empty energon cube once she would not be able to provide entertainment or pleasure. They would all let her rust once she had fallen.

But Darkstrike would not fall.

Her competitor stood on the other side of the large arena. A speaker was in between them, announcing to come and see their first femme battling in the arenas. The Cybertronians gulped down their high-grade energon, some letting the liquid spill down their mouths. Darkstrike grimaced and scowled deeply.

Once a large crowd of Cybertronians were gathered, the speaker yelled out in the microphone.

_"Femmes and mechs of Kaon! You have all come here to see a fight that will surely be remembered! For the first time in our arena, we have a femme fighting!" _the mech spoke. The crowd cheered louder. _"Now, it's time to see whether our femme will survive her first battle..."_

The crowd went wild. Mechs were out of their seats, calling at her, trying to get her attention. If Darkstrike thought she disliked the Gladiators' stares, she was sure that she hated being seen by the many Cybertronians before her.

_"In this corner, we have last orn's new comer, Plasmo!"_ the crowd cheered at the mech as he arrogantly threw his arms up, relishing in the cheers. _"And, as his competitor femme... we have Darkstrike!" _

She heard rogue calls and and audacious complains towards her. Darkstrike dead-panned and almost felt impelled to tune down her audios.

_"Gladiators, get ready... and BEGIN!" _The speaker was quick to get out of the way and leave towards the stands.

Darkstrike's attention was fully averted when she heard a fierce battle cry. The mech ran towards her, his upper body prepared to crash into her. Darkstrike saw that this mech was her height. Perhaps that could be helpful.

Instead of moving out of the way like she probably should have done, Darkstrike firmly planted her pedes on the ground, and she leaned forward. The mech came at her, his brute force slamming and impacting into her thinner armor.

Though it painfully hurt, Darkstrike was able to take the impact. She clenched her denta, and grabbed the mechs larger arms. She used her force to throw him off her, but it only seemed to make him stumble back.

Quickly composing herself, Darkstrike ignored the tingling sensation in her claws. Clenching her servo in a fist, she ran and swung at the mech. The mech was also quick to compose himself, and he caught her arm with ease. Darkstrike swung her other fist at him, hitting him squarely in the faceplates. The mech stumbled back from the force, and Darkstrike took the chance to take her arm back.

Seeing that he was momentarily trying to fix himself. Darkstrike ran up to him, prepared to use a kick him down. She realized her mistake of hitting his most guarded area, as Plasmo grabbed her leg and swung her down. Darkstrike fell hard on the arena. She grunted at the pain sent up her back-struts.

Plasmo lifted her up by her arm and gave her an uppercut at her abdomen. Darkstrike was sent back by the impact. Energon rose up from her tanks as she landed on her back. She coughed up energon, but her slight distraction prevented her from seeing the mech launch at her and kick her back.

Darkstrike rolled many times. The force of it made her fuzzy, momentarily making her optic-sight appear blurry.

Plasmo came back and grabbed her neck, pulling her up in the process. Darkstrike struggled in his grasp. Again, she was in the position. The fragging mech was possibly even smaller then her, and he still had the nerve to grab her by the neck.

Darkstrike extended her leg and kicked his thigh. She was quick on her pedes when she was dropped on the ground, less-than-gracefully catching herself. Plasmo seemed to actually trip back from her kick. Darkstrike's optics widened. She wasn't aware how much force her kicks actually held, and she never thought to use them before.

She launched forward and struck at his exposed waist, making him fall back. Darkstrike was too slow to decide her next movement. Plasmo used his legs to trip her down. Darkstrike landed on the ground with a hard thud. She groaned. Plasmo kicked her once more. Energon leaked through her plating. He looked down at her, wiping the energon from his mouthplates.

"Stay down, femme." he uttered. The cheers around her became dull in her audios. The blurry images hardly reached her optics. Recharge seemed like a gift from Primus, at this point. Darkstrike weakly lifted her helm and saw it; his arrogant smirk.

She snapped.

Her optics darkened. Her inner systems seethed as her claws seemed out of control. The taunting came back to her... the humiliation filled her processors. Her rage returned once more, fueling her actions. The energon running through her pulsed harder, as well as her spark. She roared and jumped on her pedes. The mech seemed bewildered at her sudden appearance, only to realize too late as her pede slammed into his side.

Darkstrike's fist rose and immediately struck at his faceplates. Her other pede rose, and it easily impacted on his chassis. Her claws couldn't bear it anymore, and instinct overtook her. Darkstrike's claws were soon dug into his armor, puncturing through his protoform. A wild heat seemed to transfer from her frame, and engulfed her claws, attaching itself onto the mech.

Plasmo released a raw scream. He clenched his optics shut as he was suddenly bought down to his knees. The seething heat seemed to leave her systems completely as the mech before her shook. Darkstrike took her claws back as her optics widened in surprise. Plasmo fell on his front and landed on the ground with a loud thud.

Energon stained the ground.

Something inside of Darkstrike was severely frightened. She watched as the mech opened his optics to look at her. She looked down at the blue energon on her claws. The fright soon disappeared as she realized that there was no wave of regret to come. Plasmo was only a competitor. He wasn't offline. (Though, he certainly had no problem doing so for her.) This was what she had to do to _survive_, and the sooner she realize that, the sooner Darkstrike would be closer to victory.

Why should she feel the remorse for him? It was clear that he would feel none for her. Darkstrike's optics dimmed to their previous red color. She flicked her claws, and a splat of energon landed on the ground. She slowly walked over to him, noticing the arena going completely silent. Shocked expressions overcame the audience as their optics witnessed the femme take down the mech. Gasps came from some of the femmes as they saw the audacious actions from the newly titled Gladiator femme.

Darkstrike placed her pede on his helm, and looked down at him.

_"I won't," _she uttered.

The crowd went wild.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: _*Edit: Neon, (a reader) made me realize that the previous name for the mech that fought Darkstrike was canon name, so I changed it to Plasmo :)_**

**Whoa, that fight scene was difficult to write. It was interesting to write it, and don't you worry. More interaction will be seen from Soundwave and Darkstrike. Patience is a virtue..!**

**I would also like to explain some things. The thing that happened with Darkstrike's claws will be explained probably next chapter. This was no luck she had, it was an ability... you'll find out! **

** I would also like to explain why she had claws. ****I figured, since _most_ fliers became Decepticons, they would have claws, since a lot of Decepticons seemed to have them. Also, since this is before the war had actually begun, I inferred that all Cybertronians probably had different structures; some Cybertronians had claws, some didn't. **

**Also, since Darkstrike's Alt mode is an aerial one, I figured that because of the lean structure, she would have claws or sharp fingers i.e. Starscream, Soundwave, Megatron. **

**Any feedback?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Here comes the part where I have to make up more things. Hooray for improvising, right? I wasn't sure how to proceed, but I will. Again, thank you all so much! You all are a great group of people. As long as I get a few reads, its all good. I'm satisfied that you all get to enjoy what I want to share. :D**

****Also... Later on, I might make time progress just a little more. Don't worry, nothing you all can't keep up with.****

**As a last note, I recommend that you all watch Cybertrons past. This was shown in a TFP episode, and explains what happened between Orion Pax and Megatronus. Though, I will hardly be referencing to that, this story being more of a Soundwave-centric story.**

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><p><strong>Condescending- <em>possessing an attitude of superiority, patronizing<em>**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

Darkstrike stood unresponsive at the cheering Cybertronians. She looked up at them and felt sickened by their sight. It repulsed her. How hypocritical; a previous upper caste femme, disgusted by the same castes. Darkstrike might have injured a mech, but at least she wasn't encouraging it.

The speaker was quick to go by her side. He grabbed her arm and raised it in the air. Darkstrike tuned out her audios at the vivacious yells and cheering.

_"Our champion today, is Darkstrike!"_ the speaker yelled. Darkstrike took her arm back, and winced at the dents she now held. She held her side and watched as two mechs retrieved Plasmo from the ground. Darkstrike looked down at him before turning her helm away.

There was no need for her presence any longer. She was done entertaining them for the cycle. There was no use for Darkstrike, nor did she want to stay.

She coldly turned her back towards the people. Darkstrike walked towards the -now- open door. She tried not to limp in front of the audience. It was already understood that weakness was not permitted in the Gladiatorial Pits. Darkstrike remained unfazed and only uttered a few winces as she reached the door. As soon as her gaze landed there, volts of sudden pain shot through her. Her joints stiffened, and she froze in her place. Darkstrike's optics widened in fear.

Soundwave stood there.

**..-..-..**

Darkstrike's fight was unpredictable, but it didn't mean that Soundwave didn't completely expect it.

He taught himself to expect everything from everywhere. The femme was no exception. Soundwave watched the fight, as did many other Gladiators. Before the fight had begun, many of the Gladiator mechs had been arguing who would get to keep the femme.

RocketShield had been particularly obnoxious about what he would do, once the femme was his. The other middle-ranking mechs objected that the femme would be theirs, contrary to what RocketShield said. Though, this certainly didn't stop RocketShield's arrogance.

Nonetheless, this only went noticed to him. All of the four owners stood present in the fight, and seemed more than satisfied at their immense profit for the fight. They didn't pay much attention to the mechs, rather more in their currency.

Soundwave knew that he should have left, and not wasted his time watching a battle he expected would have an ending he wouldn't like. But, like the other mechs, he had paid to see the fight. The owners made no exceptions. If the Gladiators were interested in watching the current battle, they would have to pay too. Luckily, he didn't have to sit next to the other "upper caste" Cybertronians.

Soundwave sat in the same section the other Gladiators and kept his visor focused on the femme that stood and gazed across the crowd of Cybertronians. He saw the femme visibly grimace and glare at all of them. It was ironic coming from the former high-caste femme.

His thoughts were interrupted as he sensed a presence next to him. Soundwave turned his helm and saw the mighty Megatronus bending down to sit beside him. Soundwave's stare only lasted a bit longer before it was directed towards the femme again. He didn't object or move away from the larger Gladiator that sat beside him. It was true; the silver mech was allowed to sit where ever he would like, though, Soundwave made sure to keep his guard up.

"Interesting fight, wouldn't you say?" Megatronus asked. Soundwave didn't reply, but only nodded once. Megatronus seemed to understand his silence and didn't seem to question it.

"Who are you betting on?" Megatronus asked. Soundwave took a long gaze at Darkstrike and Plasmo. The fight would surely begin in a few kliks, and the femme had yet to win or lose her first battle. Megatronus seemed to follow his gaze, and stood quiet long enough for the mech to respond. The second highest-ranking mech stood silent for a few moments.

Nothing surprised Soundwave. His inferences never led him wrong, and he was sure they never would. To predict the outcome of the battle wouldn't be as simple. Soundwave had observed the femme's training, and he easily discovered her weaknesses and strategies. The femme could easily lose and the chances of her winning seemed slim.

Soundwave raised his long arm and pointed his sharp finger at Darkstrike. Megatronus looked taken aback as he immediately turned to Soundwave in a questioning manner.

"_The femme_?!" Megatronus asked loudly. Soundwave didn't hesitate when he nodded. He knew very well that his choice was very controversial, as well as foolish. But, he didn't speak up to change his decision.

Megatronus' loud voice seemed to have captured the attention of the medium-ranking mechs. They all turned their helms in their direction. RocketShield in particular, stared at both mechs. He secretly traveled closer to them, keeping in mind of their high Gladiator status. Soundwave wasn't ignorant, he was completely aware of the mech that was slowly coming closer to them.

"You are betting on the femme?" Megatronus asked again, as if wanting to confirm what he had heard. Soundwave nodded again. RocketShield made his way closer.

"What is it I hear? Soundwave is betting?" RocketShield asked, a surprised smirk rising on his features. He didn't immediately respond, much to the other mech's annoyance. It was when the owners started staring, that Soundwave took action.

He slowly stood up and looked down at the smaller mech. He refused to be looked down at, especially by the mech in particular. RocketShield's optics widened in slight fear as he warily backed away.

Soundwave nodded in response. This was enough warning to make the other mech keep his distance.

"How about a fair wager? Between all of us Gladiators?" RocketShield asked. Megatronus seemed to perk up. Soundwave didn't respond, but neither did he back away. RocketShield took that as a sign to continue.

"Alright then. 50 Energon coins to whoever's Cybertronian wins," he began, "We bet that Plasmo will win, right mechs?" the mechs behind RocketShield chuckled and murmured loudly in agreement.

"And you bet that the femme will win?" the smaller mech asked coyly. Soundwave stood still. He usually didn't bet, especially not with the arrogant slagger in his presence, but if he simply backed off now, he would be seen as a coward. It would be seen as weakness.

Soundwave was no weakling, nor a coward. Those mechs best learn that or else he would gladly demonstrate. Those stupid mechs already feared him and Soundwave could easily keep it that way.

He nodded in response to the other mech's question.

"So, it's only you betting for the femme?" RocketShield asked.

"No. I bet for the femme, as well," a voice said. Soundwave turned his helm in the direction of it, and saw Megatronus standing up and traveling beside him. Both high-ranking Gladiators seemed to easily loom threateningly over the middle-ranking mech. RocketShield's optics widened, and he turned to the mechs behind him. They all seemed to exchange silent words.

RocketShield hesitantly turned back to them.

"So, it's a deal then. 50 Energon coins from each mech." he said. He extended his servo out and Soundwave looked down at it. The tall mech grabbed a hold of it, before squeezing too hard, making RocketShield flinch back, taking his servo with him.

Soundwave didn't stay any longer, and he turned around to take his seat again. Megatronus followed him back, wordlessly. Both high-ranking mechs sat beside each other.

"Bet: Unnecessary," Soundwave spoke. His words made Megatronus fully regard him with wide blue optics. They quickly returned to their normal size once he processed the statement. Megatronus shrugged.

"I do not doubt your decision." Megatronus said, "Let us hope that the femme does succeed."

Soundwave didn't say anything more, though he was sure that his respect for the other Gladiator had grown. The speaker had finished his announcing, which meant one thing; Imminent battle.

And, so it began.

Soundwave had not taken his optics away from the fight for a klik.

His optics took in every movement, every drop of energon spilled, every kick, every punch. Soundwave was satisfied at the entertainment of the fight. Darkstrike seemed to be actually trying, though he was disappointed when the femme had been easily bought down to the ground, and carelessly kicked.

The stupid femme lacked the experience.

She had been grabbed by her neck, and wounded as energon leaked through her armor. Soundwave didn't feel pity. He only watched the feeble femme as she struggled to stand. He seemed to glare at her behind his visor. Soundwave silently commanded the femme to stand up and fight for herself. He mentally dared her to prove him wrong.

Plasmo raised his arms up, claiming victory. RocketShield looked at Soundwave, but Soundwave refused to do the same.

Plasmo looked down at Darkstrike and seemed to utter a few words.

That was when Soundwave saw it for a second time. He saw the rage in the femme's optics. Even from the distance, his optics were clearly able to see it. He saw the red in her optics enhance to a vivid crimson. The optics narrowed in a fierce glare.

Darkstrike stood up with a strong jump. Plasmo didn't seem to see it coming. Her fierce battle cry wasn't enough to warn him as Darkstrike's pede slammed into him. Soundwave looked at the femme's long slender legs. They seemed to have held most of her force and strength.

Metal slammed on metal once she struck at his faceplates. No doubt that there would be dents. The painful sound echoed throughout the arena, as the cheering died down. Many optics watched attentively.

There was a last sound of snapping metal from the mech's chassis. Before Plamso could fall to the ground, Darkstrike grabbed on to him. Soundwave had to lean forward to see clearer. The femme's claws dug deep through the mechs armor. Darkstrike looked straight at the other mech as he let out a resonant scream that most mechs seemed to flinch to.

Darkstrike was looking at fear straight in the optics. Her first taste of victory would be a bitter one on her glossa.

Soundwave remained unfazed, watching carefully. The mech soon fell down, faceplates to the ground. Small sparks of electricity seemed to emit from revealed sides of Plasmo's proto-form. The femme had done much more than just pierced her claws into him. She had done something, but Soundwave couldn't be sure of what. He knew he had seen something similar to this.

Soundwave inspected her energon-stained claws. He noticed the sharp glow it held, and he suddenly remembered what the ability was.

His thoughts were caught off as he heard the femme approach the fallen mech. The femme placed her pede over the mech's helm. This was a demostrastion of dominance. He leaned back and watched with mild amusement. Soundwave watched wryly as all of the mechs and femmes stared with surprised expressions. He turned his helm to look at RocketShield. Soundwave saw that him and the other Gladiators were absolutely stunned.

Soundwave inwardly smirked. He was enjoying how foolish they must have felt at this point. His helm turned back to the femme. She remarked words Soundwave was unable to hear, but before he could try and decode, the audience of Cybetronians disrupted the silence, screaming out.

Plasmo hardly moved, which meant that he was unable to fight.

Darkstrike had won.

Somehow, Soundwave knew that he had technically not "underestimated" the femme. Nothing surprised him. However, this femme had managed to exceeded the very low expectations he had for her. This was good. Darkstrike had proved herself worthy of being able to defend her insignificant life. She didn't offline. She was worth living at this point. The stupid femme _barely_ made it... but she held potential. So long as she knows how to harness and use such potential, Darkstrike had a possibility to survive there. (Obviously not if the brute RocketShield trained her.)

"Soundwave!" it was the voice of one of the owners. He stood up and turned his helm towards him. "It seems that the femme did serve to be useful. Ensure that today's victor receives an upgrade,"

Soundwave nodded at the owner's order. He walked towards the door, not before passing the other Gladiators. Soundwave stopped in front of RocketShield. The mech obviously was in disbelief at the events. He had thought that he would get to take the femme...? It was so pathetic, it was almost comical. The medium-ranking mech seemed to stiffen.

Soundwave pointed towards Megatronus.

"What?!" RocketShield blurted, his optics widening.

"All energon coins: Delivered to Megatronus." the taller mech ordered. His helm turned in the other high-ranking Gladiator's direction. Megatronus gave him a nod, and Soundwave returned idly it. Before he left, he looked back to see RocketShield's faceplates of indignation. Soundwave smirked.

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><p>Darkstrike turned her helm, her optics scanning for any other possible passageways, other than the one in front of her. Much to her dismay, there weren't. She continued to slowly approached the door. Even in her fatigue, Darkstrike was visually wary of the tall mech. She slowly stepped closer, and Soundwave didn't seem to budge. He stood as still as a statue. Darkstrike would have mistaken him for one if he hadn't have had such a threatening presence.<p>

She looked directly at his visor before averting her optics downward. When Darkstrike had reached him, she noticed that he was blocking the door. She clutched her side tighter. Soundwave's helm tilted directly at her small movement. Darkstrike's optics widened.

She straightened herself out, and her posture was fixed so she appeared to be taller. Her faceplates shifted so it looked like she was unaffected by the pain. Soundwave's arm shot out too quick for Darkstrike to react.

His fingers wrapped around her arm, tightening when she tried to pull away. Darkstrike's helm snapped up at him in questioning bewilderment. Soundwave didn't say anything, and began to pull her.

"W-what are you doing?!" Darkstrike asked frantically. Soundwave didn't respond as he continued to walk forward while dragging the femme behind him. Darkstrike stumbled before realizing that most of her weight was taken off as Soundwave held her arm. She wasn't sure if he was doing it intentionally, but she was grateful.

Her spark beat increased unintentionally as Darkstrike began to fully feel Soundwave's sharp fingers wrapped around her arm. Soundwave turned his helm to look at her, and Darkstrike turned away so she wouldn't meet his gaze. He pulled her harder until she was right next to him. Darkstrike's widened optics landed directly on his armored frame. She looked away with humiliation as her spark seemed to enjoy their close proximity.

She didn't say a thing, and she hoped that Soundwave wouldn't be able to notice.

"Where are we going?" Darkstrike asked. The taller mech regarded her with a side glance, but didn't speak further. Darkstrike sighed in defeat. She was simply too tired for further struggle. It didn't matter if he was bringing her to the Medics quarters to be permanently offlined; at this point Darkstrike didn't care.

Soundwave seemed to lead her past all of the corridors, to a new door. He typed in a code, causing it to open and pointed inside.

"Oil bath. One breem." Soundwave said. To Darkstrike, it sounded like an order. She slowly entered, glancing at Soundwave. He didn't say more. As Darkstrike entered, the door behind her hissed shut.

After a klik of standing there in silence, she realized what what he meant; Darkstrike only had a breem to rid herself of the filth before Soundwave would open the door. Darkstrike didn't hesitate to turn the device on. The liquid ran down her frame, soothing her stiff posture. She melted into the bath. The energon and filth washed down to the floors. The dents didn't fade away, but at least Darkstrike didn't any energon residue. Though, it would probably be more efficient if she had taken her armor off.

That was not happening. In the short amount of time she had, Darkstrike would most likely get caught in her bare proto-form. That was something she did not want. Best that she enjoyed any short luxury she would have. The light sound of the patter of the liquid running down her frame, echoed throughout the silent room. Just as Darkstrike began humming and enjoying the sudden warmth, the liquid stopped running. Her optics opened.

She reached up towards where the tube was. Her optics narrowed. Darkstrike was certainly in no mood for her bath to be caught off. Her claws gripped it. She shook it multiple times, but much to her anger, nothing came out. She growled in anger. Darkstrike had just finished a fight with Plasmo, and she was fragging tired and wounded. Either she made the pipe continue to work, or she was fragged.

Grinding her denta together, her fist slammed into the tube. To her surprise... it broke in half. Darkstrike deadpanned. She glared at the piece in her servos. She viciously swiped her claws at the rest of the tube, successfully breaking it off completely. Darkstrike stomped on the remaining pieces, and kicked them away. And in the end... no more liquid came out.

Disrupting her, was the sound of the door hissing open.

Darkstrike's optics widened, and her anger soon died down once she realized that Soundwave was staring at her. Her spark seem to laugh at the situation, as it almost felt like it bounced in her chassis. She realized her current predicament.

Darkstrike looked down at the broken pieces and the floor, and at her claws. Soundwave's helm snapped at similar places. He pointed at the broken pieces on the floor. She flinched back and sighed in frustration. Darkstrike picked up the pieces and threw them aside, making it less noticeable.

Soundwave's visor was turned to her direction, and it stayed there for a few kliks. Darkstrike shuffled and clenched her claws nervously. It was frightening how his gaze managed to pierce her more than if his visor was off.

He began to turn away and walk. Darkstrike took this as a sign to follow. She stumbled and limped behind Soundwave. The taller mech didn't even turn around to check if she was following.

Darkstrike sighed again. She was beginning to like his grip on her arm better.

Immediately after she thought this, Soundwave servo flew towards her arm. He pulled her forward. Darkstrike threw him a bewildered expression. Soundwave disregarded her completely. Her optics were still wide and she could help but feel strange.

It was strange... how Soundwave... had almost... Darkstrike shook her helm. What she thought could obviously only be heard by her... Well, that's what her current knowledge told her. She was beginning to doubt her it.

Again, Darkstrike let all of her weight fall on Soundwave's hold. He didn't seem to mind or even notice for that matter. She continued to limp and look away. Darkstrike gave another weary sigh. She really needed recharge, but for some reason, she didn't want Soundwave to discover the fact.

Darkstrike already knew that any weakness shown to the mechs was huge vulnerability, but there was something else that made her alert when he was near. She looked down at his fingers that gripped on her arm. The long digits were able to encircle her forearm armor completely. Darkstrike had not realized that she had been staring and was suddenly snapped out of her thoughts when he had let go.

She looked up and realized that they were in another room. It was large, and bright. It was basically empty, with a few restrains in the corner. Soundwave pointed at the metal berth. Darkstrike looked at it and frantically turned back to him. Her optics widened and she began venting deeply. She backed up, and stood in a defensive position.

He wanted her on the metal berth, and that was something that unnerved her.

Her claws clenched and she looked at Soundwave with a determined expression. Darkstrike knew she would lose in a fight with Soundwave. She knew he was a high ranking mech, and would easily terminate her... but she'd fight with any strength she had left, (which was not much.)

Soundwave seemed to stare at her blankly. He didn't seem at all alarmed at her sudden posture... and it was starting to frighten Darkstrike. He seemed a bit too calm.

Soundwave approached her... slowly... menacingly... His presence seemed to bring something threatening towards her... His size seemed to grow with every step closer he took. Darkstrike lost her confidence and flinched back into the wall.

She was soon pressed on it as Soundwave was only a small distance in front of her. Soundwave shot out his servo and pressed it on her chassis, pushing her further into the wall. Darkstrike struggled but froze back when Soundwave's helm neared her. Darkstrike was automatically reminded of the previous cycle when he did the same thing.

Although, it didn't scare her any less. And, what was worse, was that her spark seemed to pound in delight at Soundwave, while her common sense was completely terrified.

Soundwave poked her abdomen. It could have easily punctured her, but it didn't.

Instead, his sharp finger stayed on her frame, and slowly trailed up. The sharp finger running up her, caused a shiver down Darkstrike's backstruts. It slowly scraped up her torso, chassis, and then stayed to her neck. Darkstrike bit her glossa at the strange pleasant sensation. Only one other mech had made her feel like this... but the fragging wrecker was long gone at this point.

Currently, it was Soundwave's actions that was making her fear and excitement increase.

His claw-like finger didn't leave her neck cables. Darkstrike's helm arched up, her optics widening in fear.

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><p>Soundwave watched the terrified femme in front of him. Something about the position... gave him a greater sense of superiority. Soundwave's optics ran through her frame, this time looking at it at a much more different perspective. He wasn't going to deny the fine specimen in front of him, nor was he going to admit that he was more then mildly attracted to her.<p>

He did find it mildly amusing to see Darkstrike's panic. He also enjoyed the look of surprise on her faceplates. The stupid femme hadn't yet figured out that he was telepathic mech. He was especially able to hear her thoughts when they were as loud as hers. He didn't even need to go into her processor to pluck the information, her fire walls were completely down.

Oh yes, Soundwave would definitely use this to his advantage.

He looked down at her and removed his sharp finger from her neck.

Oh no, Soundwave was most likely not done with her, either. He decided that he would continue to play around with the femme. She was a peculiar thing, having enough boldness to fight to keep her life.

That was what the Gladiatorial Pits were about. To fight to keep whatever of a pathetic life you had left. Although, Soundwave was sure that he would not be repairing the damage the stupid femme had done the pipes. Having her release her anger was refreshing... Though, Soundwave prefer that she perform those maneuvers on mechs... like RocketShield.

"Upgrade." Soundwave blurted out. Darkstrike immediately snapped out of her slight trans. Her optics cleared. She blinked in confusion, her fear slowly dissipating.

"What..?" she blurted. He backed up from her frame, and Soundwave immediately heard her small thoughts of protest. He inwardly smirked. The femme was infatuated with him..? Very interesting... He almost never interacted with her, yet his curt actions had a great affect on her.

That could also be used to his advantage.

"Upgrade." Soundwave repeated. His pointed towards the metal berth. He saw the bright blue energon rise to her faceplates.

"B-but-! Y-you-! I..." Darkstrike was clearly baffled at his actions. Soundwave didn't reply. He traveled away from her, and into the the smaller room next door to continue through his orders.

The closet next door contained many items, and many pieces of armor. He knew that some were probably from desist mechs, but they were at the very least cleaned. He collected them from the ground, grabbing the most important parts that connected to the frame.

Before Soundwave left, he turned his helm towards an old data pad that slipped from the corner. One he had stored long ago. The worn out pad seemed almost invisible to the naked optic, but he had remembered why he had stored the thing. He no longer required the knowledge because he had learned everything he had needed to.

Extending his long arm, he snatched the data-pad, while carrying large parts of the armor in the other. He carried them back to the angry femme that sat on the berth. He placed them on the surface, expertly -assiduously- placing a data pad on there. Soundwave was very aware of his actions.

He turned around to collect the rest of the parts. Just before he left, he turned his helm in her direction.

"Begin placing onto proto-form, or Soundwave will do it." he stated. The femme gave a startled reaction and a bright blue blush. Her red optics widened largely, and he could easily see the bewilderment behind them. Darkstrike merely nodded, before hurriedly rushing to place the parts. He didn't need to look back; his audios heard it all.

He entered the smaller room next door to grab the remaining pieces of the standard Gladiator armor; the were the leg pieces that attached to her knee and down. Soundwave froze when he heard Darkstrike pause. There was a faint sound of metal scraping, followed by more silence. He took this as his cue. Soundwave turned his helm towards the door, and was quick to walk towards the previous room he was in.

The femme stumbled, and loudly shuffled before turning her attention towards him. Soundwave didn't reply, but he had his suspicions. He placed the rest of the pieces onto the hard berth.

Darkstrike grabbed the pieces, and looked at her frame to figure out where the pieces belonged. Just as she was about to remove them, she turned towards Soundwave. She seemed uncomfortable with his presence. She noticed that he didn't seem to be moving.

Darkstrike sighed.

She didn't seem to care of his audience as she removed the pieces from her legs, exposing the proto-form to him. Her long sleek legs immediately caught his attention. Soundwave didn't hide his staring as he revised them, up and down. At the clearer view, it was apparent that they _did_ have a lot of force to them. There was no hiding it. Soundwave knew that he pleased with what he saw.

Darkstrike blushed a light blue, before hastily placing on the armor. When she was finished with the process, she looked down at herself. The armor loosely fit the femme. It gave her a bulky appearance, hiding her natural curves. The armor was from a mech, hence why it didn't fit the slimmer femme. Darkstrike seemed visibly displeased with this.

Soundwave neared her, and silently extended a tendril from his frame. The long tendril slithered her way, making itself unnoticed. Then, Soundwave plunged it and roughly connected it to the femme's back. Immediately, the tendril began glowing, transferring into the femme.

Darkstrike gave out a scream filled with utter pain, one that would probably make lesser mechs flinch back. Soundwave remained unfazed, as always. Even as Darkstrike fell to her knees, he didn't utter a word. He wanted to see how much more she could take; For how long would she be able to sustain her life. When would she drop to imminent defeat?

The tendril clutched to her back a bit longer, as the process continued for a few more kliks. He knew it was painful for the femme, but taking her by surprise seemed easier than restraining her.

Soundwave detached the long tendril from her. Darkstrike had her helm lowered, and her audible venting suggested that she was still recuperating.

The armor that was previously attached to her, had morphed and attached itself tighter onto her frame. It was an easy process that Soundwave didn't use for just any upgrade. But, if the femme was to advance in the Pits, she might as well have had susceptible armor for it.

She stood up, helm still lowered. That was when she noticed the change.

Darkstrike looked down at her frame. The dull blue armor now accented her slim figure. Darkstrike lifted up her arm to test it out. She looked at the sharp armor that adorned her forearms. Darkstrike would easily be able to dig it into anyone else's armor, along with the sharp pads on her shoulders. Soundwave was quick to notice that her upper thighs, and waist were the only vulnerability, along with her wings.

Darkstrike's large surprised red optics averted towards Soundwave. They quickly reverted back to their normal size as she composed herself. Much to her surprise, he was quick to return her gaze.

Soundwave and her watched each other for a few kliks. Thick tension filled the room. Narrowed red optics refused to leave his visor. Soundwave didn't like this. He gave her a few kliks to back down.

But, Darkstrike didn't. His posture was lifted in a threatening manner. It was time to rectify the femme.

Darkstrike looked defiantly up at him. Silent defiance was one that he would not tolerate.

Soundwave traveled her way, making his steps louder. Darkstrike recoiled but didn't seem to avert her curious gaze.

Once Soundwave was only half step away from her, his sharp fingers grabbed her chin, and yanked it so she looked directly up at him.

Darkstrike's optics widened.

"Prove your equality," Soundwave uttered. He felt the shiver pass through her, onto his servo.

"Leave." he commanded. With quick skittish movements, Darkstrike left the room. She squirmed and struggled with the different armor she now had on. His optics trailed after her figure, as she left the room. Soundwave turned his helm at the berth, towards where her discarded armor lied.

Just as he expected, the data-pad was gone.

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><p><strong>Soundwave's personality was not easy to write, but I think I'm getting better at it. I'm sorry if it seems a bit rushed on his new interest. I really tried to tune him in, and since these are different circumstances than in the war, I thought, "what the heck? I'll give it a shot."<strong>

**Megatronus made an appearance too! I'm not going to get into the full relationship of him and Soundwave, but I will give slight intel for future references.**

**I will include the events as it happened, and a hard task for a writer is being able to interpret the events and staying true to the story, while also giving another perspective. I plan to (partially) show the story side of the Decepticons.**

**I mean, sure we heard the story from the Autobots' point of view, but I would have liked to hear it from the other side also. They would have pretty interesting intel!**

**Orion, I like and dislike you at the same time. (Yeah, it's possible.)**

**No story is ever unbiased, even when the good guys tell it. Which is why I felt terrible (for my Decepticons.) ****I was... ugghddmjkg when I found out about how Orion was made Prime when Megatron was just... you know what? Never mind. If I continue, I'll just start ranting and ugh. I mean, I honestly felt like slag at the sad story. How dare they.**

**Aside from that, it's time for Darkstrike to continue to prove herself. Yep, things will happen.**

**Also, I am a believer on Primus bringing together two Cybertronians to become destined Bond-mates. So, bring Soundwave and Darkstrike into the equation and... ta da. At the moment, it's mostly Darkstrike's spark that is feeling it but I'd rather not reveal more.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I was so pleased with the amount of feedback I received. I was not entirely expecting it, but it still managed to make me happy! I sincerely apologize for the late update. It's not easy sometimes, but I luckily have motivation right now. :) I will make sure that next update does not take as long. Kudos to my collaborator Proud2beMexican for the assistance of constructing this chapter. **

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><p><strong>Provocative-<strong> **_tending to provoke a response, e.g., anger or disagreement_**

**Brightplate- _a general mildly offensive term for a Towerling or upper-caste mechanism, or aimed at transformers who at least appear to be of upper class - too polished, too clean, not enough armor, etc. _-Canon Transformers term**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

Darkstrike sat on her rusty berth, analyzing the data pad in her servos. The poor lighting shone onto her new armor. Her red optics narrowed as she easily decoded the encryption to reach the information. Her claws diligently typed on the data pad until a bright blue message popped up on the screen. Darkstrike skimmed over the first page until she realized what it was.

She went to the next page... and the next... All of the pages were battle moves; slick battle strategies specifically...

She almost dropped the data pad in shock. Darkstrike was quick to catch it half way before it hit the floor. Her optics widened as she set it down on the berth. She could hardly remember that data pad being on the berth from the other room when she and Soundwave had arrived. (Then again, Soundwave was distracting her.)

It was almost as if Soundwave... had left it for her. Did he? Why would the terrifying mech leave her such a device? What were his motives? Soundwave didn't like her! Why would he take the time to -indirectly- give her this? He was beginning to seem very unclear on how he was going to act towards her.

Would he act cold and ignore her... or would he pleasantly grab her like he did? Not that she wanted either...

Darkstrike already felt humiliated at her reactions from having mere contact with Soundwave. The feel of his servos was enough to send shivers tingle up her back-struts. His intimidating aura chilled her to the core. His touch absolutely frightened her... but it was an _exhilarating_ risk that Darkstrike had never experienced, even when she was courting with a wrecker in her past caste.

Darkstrike wanted more. And somehow, she knew that her contact with Soundwave was far from over. Darkstike didn't know whether she liked that or not.

She had been so blunt with her reactions that she wouldn't be surprised if Soundwave knew that she...- She _what? _How _did_ she feel about Soundwave? Did Darkstrike _like _him?

No, that couldn't be. Darkstrike had enough common sense to figure out that she didn't like him. She was simply... _drawn_ to him... so to speak.

She looked down at the data pad again. Perhaps her processor needed to be distracted.

She began to revise and study the first page. There were moves she'd never heard of or seen, but then again... her previous caste wasn't known for fighting. The moves on the data pad were complex, and needed excellent precision. She however, had all this time to learn. Darkstrike would hone her skills. It would be a matter of how much effort she added.

Gently setting it down, Darkstrike began to strip herself of the armor. Fresh wounds were revealed on her protoform. It was nothing that couldn't be healed. She'd pay a visit to the medic tomorrow. That was, if she received enough recharge to recuperate enough.

She laid down on the berth, rubbing the sore protoform and scratches. Her optics slowly began to close. Her arms sprawled out on her berth. The weariness was enough to remind her of the battle she recently participated in. It was odd how she was able to survive without regret. It was odd how easily she had been able to sacrifice another to save her spark.

Then again... survival was selfish...

Though, did that make her selfish as well?

Her optics closed and recharge overcame her before she could dwell on the question.

* * *

><p>Red optics flickered open. Darkstrike looked at the ceiling above her. She frantically gathered herself, ignoring the slight aches of pain that emitted from her wounds. She stood up on her pedes, her optics searching the room she was in. Darkstrike deflated when she saw that she was only in her room.<p>

Not the room she had lived in for vorns. A room she had received a little more than an orn ago.

She sagged and deeply frowned. She looked down at her scattered armor and began to sluggishly attach it back onto herself. As Darkstrike finished, she extended her limbs to examine herself. The armor felt thicker... and a bit heavier. Other than that, she had to give Soundwave credit. He did well in adjusting her armor... in a painful sort of way.

Darkstrike thumped her helm with her servo. She needed to stop thinking about that accursed mech! He seem to make it very clear that he could end her life easily. Darkstrike didn't doubt it... he was, after all the Second-ranking mech in the whole Pit! That meant Soundwave was the _second_ best mech there! There were so many mechs in the Pits... and he was second best. It frightened her _why_ Soundwave had made contact with her in the first place!

She was just an ordinary -Gladiator- femme! She was ranking near the bottom! She basically had the least chance of enduring the Gladiatorial conditions. Soundwave should have just seen her as a nuisance. _M__aybe he did... _Then why did he provoke those reactions to her? Why did he give her the data-pad?! Did he mean to give it to her? Her processor scoffed at her. _Don't feel special; you're not that important, _it told her.

Darkstrike deadpanned and grunted in annoyance.

She walked over to the door, her legs almost dragging. She didn't want to leave the safety of her room, but she was malnourished. The energon in her systems was much below half. Her systems would fail before the cycle would be over.

Unlocking her door, she walked out.

Darkstrike looked down at her pedes with every step she progressed with. She followed the corridors, and soon enough the thunderous roars of the mechs reached her ears.

She entered and as the door swished open, it revealed all the mechs swinging their firsts in the air happily. Darkstrike kept her gaze towards the ground as she walked down the tables. Her recent upgrade seemed to unintentionally get their attention. This was unwanted attention that was beginning to make Darkstrike contemplate whether it was a positive thing she received an upgrade.

Whistles and roguish calls reached her audios. She gave a deep intake. And just when she had thought that they would stop calling out to her. Was it really inevitable?

"Ahh, look at that! I guess it's official. Our femme here... is a Gladiator."

This earned various chuckled.

"I don't know... I kinda liked her other armor. It was easier to see what she hid beneath it."

There was more sly laughter. Darkstrike fought back a blush. Oh, how she wanted her servo to connect with their faceplates! It would give her such pleasure hearing the crisp metal reverberate across the room, the sound of a mouthplate and an enlarged ego shattering in her audios. The audience of everybody's optics would make it all the more sweeter.

"Not that this isn't a good view, hmm."

Darkstrike couldn't wait until she received her sword.

She reached the counter. The familiar green mech stood there revising his data pad. His bored expression seemed permanent, that is, until his optics flickered ever so slightly at her. As smirk crawled onto his faceplates.

"How can I assist you, dear?" he asked chuckling. This didn't amuse Darkstrike at all, quite the contrary.

"Energon." she deadpanned. He sniggered at her lack of enthusiasm. He filled up her energon a little more than usual, she noticed.

"A gift for you, darling." he whispered. Darkstrike raised her optic ridge warily as she grabbed the cube. She swished it in her servo and gave the mech a bewildered expression.

He chuckled went back to reading his data pad.

As Darkstrike made her way through the tables, she noticed a lot of mechs clearing space and patting the seat next to them for her to sit at. She grimaced and walked over to the familiar wall.

Ignoring the holes that the mechs bore into her with their gazes, Darkstrike flopped down on the floor lacking any grace. She sipped her energon cube and kept her optics fixated on it. If Darkstrike looked up, she would meet at least one of their gazes. She refused to give any of the mechs the pleasure of her embarrassment.

The familiar thought of Soundwave crept up into her processor again. Was he also watching? She would take a risky to find out. Slowly, she lifted her helm and quickly glanced at the crowd of mechs. Her optics flickered at all of them until she found a specific one.

She saw him.

_Him._

_Soundwave. _

He seemed to be taking his energon cube with him. Darkstrike found herself wondering if he would take off his visor to consume it. Her predictions seemed to be incorrect as he subspaced the cube.

Suddenly blocking her view was the recognizable armor of white and red. Her optics drifted up to see RocketShield smirking. She automatically looked away and averted all of her attention onto her energon cube. She drank more of it.

The mech above her didn't seem to like to be ignored, for he kicked her side. Darkstrike stumbled to her side with an 'oof.' She glared up at the mech above her but bit her glossa in fear of getting the impact of her words.

She gulped down a good portion of her energon before discarded it on the floor. She'd drink the rest when they'd leave. Too scared and annoyed to look up, Darkstrike kept her helm lowered.

"Get up." he stated. She ignored him.

"Are your audio receptors malfunctioning? I said _get up._" he snapped. She glared at the ground knowing that looking up at him would only make her ire rise. He wasn't bad to look at, but his personality sure made him ugly and made her mad.

"Femme, are you _mute_?" RocketShield asked. No words were uttered from her vocals. Darkstrike had a feeling that RocketShield wouldn't be satisfied with this type of response either. There was no way she could win or remove herself from this situation without receiving some sort of pain or humiliation.

Her thoughts were confirmed as she received another rough kick on her side.

"Look at me, _Brightplate_." Her optics suddenly snapped up at him.

She froze.

Darkstrike looked up at him for a few nano-kliks. She kept silent. It was then that Darkstrike slowly stood up while fiercely glaring up at him, never taking her optics off him. She bit her glossa once more to prevent her extent knowledge of Cybertronian curses from filling RocketShield's audios.

"_What do you want_?" she snapped. She clenched her servos tightly into fists. Her denta gritted together. RocketShield smirked again, his smug look returning. It seemed that things were turning into his favor again. It also seemed that the mechs behind him were encouraged by their leaders positive attitude change.

"Oh, feisty are we?" he asked giving her sharp shoulder armor a flick.

Darkstrike was not amused.

"Maybe that'll be _our_ little nickname... _Brightplate,_" RocketShield mocked. He was getting bolder. He used his finger to roughly tap on her shoulder making Darkstrike stumble back. "And look at that! The name fits with your new shiny armor! Whata coincidence, wouldn't yah say..." RocketShield leaned in closer to her. "_Brightplate._" he finished, the mechs behind him also laughing. His scarlet optics burned into her.

Darkstrike fumed and leaned forward, a sign that she was challenging him. Getting close to someone meant that you were threatening them, going against them. This was something that surprised RocketShield.

Darkstrike had a strong glare on her face. If there was something she hated more, it was nicknames. After one was previously given to her, Darkstrike knew that one was enough. After all, the only nickname she had received was ruined by the mech that had given it to her.

She could withstand being called, femme, or even any other lame insult others came up with, but a Brightplate... _Brightplate_ was everything Darkstrike stood against. She stood completely against the term. It was much less be a nickname she wanted to share with a mech called _RocketShield. _

"Why don't I give you a nickname..?" she asked, thinking of a few that would certainly fit him, "Or perhaps your own designation is enough insult."

The look on RocketShield's faceplates was beginning to make her regret her words. The look on his faceplates made the mechs behind him cease laughter.

"Can't take a joke, RocketShield?" she spat narrowing her optics.

"Slagging femme!" he grunted. The look if indignation was perfect; it was certainly much better than the look he usually wore.

Unfortunately, she only got to see it for a few kliks before a fist swung her way. Before she could process anything, Darkstrike was flung back by the impact on her shoulder. She collided into the wall behind her. There was a mild pain on her shoulder. Luckily, he avoided hitting her facepates... what a gentlemech.

She grunted and closed her optics as she flinched back at his approaching faceplates. RocketShield had lowered his faceplates down to hers, only inches apart. He smirked and reached out for her energon cube. He swished the blue liquid making Darkstrike's optics open suddenly. She looked at it and drifted her optics back to him. She looked at him with a pleading expression. She silently supplicated as her claws clenched with anticipation.

"Is there something you want, _Brightplate?_" he slyly asked. Darkstrike glared at him and bit her lip.

"You're a piece of slag." she spat at him. His mechs and him laughed at her bold words. RocketShield extended the cube near her faceplates and took it away when she leaned into it. With a wicked glint in his optics, RocketShield gulped down the remainder of her energon. She looked at him in complete and utter disbelief.

The bell was a perfect harmony in her audios when it rung, successfully interpreting them.

RocketShield shot her look of contempt and he gave her another remark to confirm his superiority to her.

"Come on. Training hasn't even started and you're on the ground already... _Brightplate_." he spoke. Seeing that Darkstrike wasn't going to get up, he hummed in triumph.

Darkstrike sulked on the ground and watched all the mechs left to go train. She deflated and took the discarded cube in her servos. All of them left, but Darkstrike wanted to stay on the ground. The humiliation was familiar yet still unbearable.

It was the feeling of ignorance she was also feeling; inferiority.

No tears of coolant left her optics as she stood there. And it seemed the she wasn't the only one that stood there though. A shadow loomed over to her, and Darkstrike refused to look up to see who it was.

Though, there was a significant difference in her spark

This made her look up. The mech that stood before her was enough to strike more fear into her in a nano-klik, than RocketShield would be able to do in a lifetime. Darkstrike backed up into the wall and pressed herself on it.

Soundwave looked down at her coldly.

"Disappointing." he stated. He turned away and began walking towards the door. Darkstrike felt an immense amount of shame well up in her. For some reason, when Soundwave told her this... it made her feel even more mortification. It made her spark weigh with chagrin.

She stood up quickly and stepped closer to him. Soundwave heard her and turned around to look at her slightly. She violently threw the cube towards a wall, causing it to shatter in the almost empty room.

"What would you have expected me to do?" she asked. Soundwave lifted his arm and pointed a sharp finger at her.

"To fight and used resources." he responded. Soundwave didn't say anything to her. He exited the room and left her to her thoughts. _Resouces... did he mean the data pad? _Darkstrike also walked out of the room, keeping his harsh suggestions in mind.

It was true, Soundwave had called her disappointing, and for the mech to downright say it meant that it was _truly _disappointing. But his suggestions were meant to help her... and Soundwave had also given her the valuable data pad. That would be another step closer towards her next goal. Her next goal was to get Soundwave's opinion to change about her.

No longer would would she be a disappointing or a Brightplate. She'd be something more.

She'd be a Gladiator.

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><p>For the next couple of cycles Darkstrike studied her data pad rigorously. Every single character and Cybertronian letter was not missed by her keen optics. Her claws typed, with the only goal of discovering the knowledge inside and out of the data pad.<p>

However, practicing the moves was a lot more complicated than it was reading them. It was quite complex the way she had to bend to just the right angle, or sharply turn to the best precision she could attain. Adjusting her entire body was difficult and this reminded her just how study her joints had to be.

Though, throughout all, Darkstrike couldn't let RocketShield watch her practice this. There was nothing wrong with it; all moves were allowed onto the arena, but Darkstrike wanted to wait at just the right time to wipe off that arrogant slagger's grin. Oh, and she hoped the moment would be glorious.

Darkstrike hoped everyone would see it, perhaps even Soundwave. That was, if the mech decided to be around her at the time.

The mech hardly spoke with her anymore. It almost made her spark... sad. Darkstrike almost wanted to slap herself. Soundwave didn't care! She shouldn't either! If he decided that he wouldn't show himself to her then Darkstrike should accept it. She decided that she would ignore the unnecessary and stupid feeling in her spark every time she would walk by Soundwave and he merely ignored or brushed her off. The only time Darkstrike _really_ wanted to have his attention is when she'd prove herself.

She would do it in one of her concurring fights. If all went well, she'd try it in her next fight (that happened to be in an orn and a half.) She had actually been in quite a few battles in the past couple of orns. Contrary to what others thought, it was not easy learning the moves, let alone perfecting them. Especially for her; a femme with no actual past experience on strategy in battle. It was a miracle that she had been able to get as far as she did.

As she slowly moved up in the ranks, her opponents got tougher to fight against. While the mechs varied in size, it still was harder to take down larger bots. Darkstrike was not going to lie. There were some pretty nasty gashes and wounds as a result of her inexperience. There was the aching pain that followed afterwards. There was the stinging of the energon that leaked through. There was the volts of pain that traveled up her systems, and not to mention her sore joints.

That was what she was feeling at the moment. Darkstrike had just won a fight out in the arena. She had overexerted herself to the point where winning was her only option. Heck, she had almost been desperate enough to use the moves she had not yet perfected. For victory, it was worth it.

Why she had wanted to win so badly was because of her last fight. Darkstrike had lost and RocketShield took full advantage of it. He taunted her and even tried to convince the owners that she was unfit for battle. However, the owners were still convinced that she was still useful in the arenas and that losses were not uncommon among them. It was decided that she continue, with the punishment of not receiving energon that cycle.

Darkstrike knew he had lost because the mech she battled against had much more strength than she did. At least, that was what she told herself. She had all her weapons with her, but she had still felt like something had been missing that cycle. But, she had everything... except great strength, that is. That meant that she had to rely on only her sword... Something that didn't help her as much as it should have. Unfortunately, the Con to practicing her battle moves, meant limited time for practicing with her sword. So, seeing as she had the disadvantage, Darkstrike had lost.

Yes, she had been brutally mocked by it... mostly by RocketShield. Though, she had chosen silence as her best remark. The mechs had stopped after they saw that they couldn't get the femme riled up.

It was then that Darkstrike realized the mechs weren't taunting her in particular. They seemed to taunt every mech that lost, but RocketShield was purposely being hard on her.

Darkstrike threw her thoughts in the back of her processor as she limped out of the arena. She needed to go to the medic urgently. The gash on her abdomen and top inner thigh seemed to be leaking the most energon. It was a miracle that she had not offlined right there.

But she soon would if she didn't receive any energon.

Deciding make a turn, she thought to herself, _forget the medic. I need energon. _

* * *

><p>So the femme <em>had<em> redeemed herself.

That was all Soundwave could say after hearing about her last battle and how it went down in flames for the femme. Megatronus, who had watched the fight, told him that she hadn't been as skilled with her sword as first predicted.

Soundwave knew why that was. He was keen enough to catch the femme performing moves that were only familiar to him. She lacked grace and precision, but he saw progress. Though, Soundwave did stay to watch her struggle. The way her frame twisted and turned to degrees it was probably not accustomed to, gave him satisfaction.

Soundwave liked having a form of entertainment; something better to watch other than the same mechs who made no attempt to proceed in the ranks. That was why he was high ranking and they low.

It was refreshing to see the femme actually... trying.

The only aspect that irked him was the fact that Darkstrike let RocketShield command her and treat her like the ground he walked on. And what had she done to retaliate...? _Nothing. _It discouraged him. It was to the point where _he_ wanted to kick her to have her react. The femme was _allowed_ to throw a few punches at RocketShield, the mech didn't seem to have a problem doing the same to her. And if the mech were to try attempt to attack because the femme's retaliation, Soundwave would start a slight diversion.

Why?

He'd do it as a reward for the femme finally having courage. There was no other reason. He could easily let her get hurt, but it was unnecessary. The femme had her own violence to deal with out in the arena and frankly... RocketShield deserved it. Soundwave hadn't done it himself because he would not stoop the the mech's level to prove that he was superior.

Darkstrike on the other servo... wouldn't have to stoop to any level... in fact, she's probably gain some rank.

Though, the cycle would be yet to come for the femme still refused to defend herself properly, and for that Soundwave did not speak with her. It didn't seem to have pleased Darkstrike, for he kept hearing the thoughts that emanated from her. They were not positive thoughts. They were thoughts of anger and denial of caring and even some thoughts of... hurt.

He preferred not to dwell on that one.

Either way, it intrigued Soundwave that the femme had a new thought for him even when he made the slightest of glances towards her. Glances that he had _allowed_ her to see, of course. Unbeknownst to the femme, he constantly watched her to keep up with her success.

He attended most of her fights; only _most_ because if he attended all of them, the mechs were sure to notice and get suspicious.

It had been ironic as he did not attend Darkstrike's previous fight where she had lost. He did not know who she was fighting against that cycle, but only knew that one had to be the victor. When the fight was over, he had quickly seen the medic rush through into the arena. The other Gladiators were leaving from the stands, and they had been murmuring amongst themselves about the energon that had been spilled.

Soundwave was not alarmed, and it was not later that Megatronus also exited and went right towards him.

_"Soundwave!" Megatronus called out. He turned his helm in the other Gladiator's direction to acknowledge his presence. Soundwave walked towards Megatronus vise versa. "Soundwave, I didn't see you. We usually both survey the femme's fights."_

_"Not currently." he responded. Megatronus chuckled. _

_"Yes, I noticed. Though, I wouldn't have recommended you to see it." the silver Gladiator remarked. _

_"Reasons?" he asked. _

_"Your femme lost for the first time." Megatronus replied. Soundwave instinctively turned his helm to view the arena behind Megatronus. There was a slight glitch in his spark. He'd have to get it checked out later. Nonetheless, the same moment it came, the glitching was gone. _

_"Not to worry, the medic came to her aid. Your femme will be repaired. I'm sure the owners would not like that their main currency maker is injured. Figures. Those slaggers would do anything to make a quick coin." Megatronus scowled. Soundwave disliked the way Megatronus named the femme 'his.'_

_"Femme: Not mine." he clarified, putting more emphasis in his tone of voice. Megatronus let out a laugh. _

_"Apologies, I did not mean to offend you. I merely assumed that she had caught your optic..." _

Soundwave knew he couldn't let himself slip like that again. Megatronus had somehow found out that the femme had sparked a tiny, tiny interest in him. He was the one that obserbed everything, never the one being observed. Megatronus was too keen, and he realized that he was have to be more alert when around the other silver Gladiator.

Though, that was far from the point.

He had left the femme for her recovery and was more or less neutral about her quick return to the energon room. RocketShield however, had not given his taunting a break, but enhanced it. He saw her weakness and quickly attacked it. Though, instead of dealing it like the femme usually would, she angrily took her energon cube and limped out of the room, not before telling RocketShield that he could frag himself.

Once she left, the room reverberated with chuckles and laughs all directed towards RocketShield. The mech had fumed off to Primus-knows-where, leaving Soundwave slightly amused and satisfied. Yes, he guessed the femme deserved some type of reward for that. She had after all, survived this far.

Soundwave closed his thoughts as he arrived closer to the arena entrance where Darkstrike was supposed to exit. The fight had ended a few kliks ago, and he had watched her victory. Watching her redeem herself was interesting, and he had more or less enjoyed it. Though, the femme had quite a few injures. Energon was visible on her frame and she walked with a limp.

As Soundwave reached the entrance, he saw that it had been left open. A trail of energon suggested that the femme had headed towards another direction. He followed the trail, knowing that the femme couldn't have gone far.

* * *

><p>Darkstrike urgently needed energon. Unfortunately for her, she had already gotten her fill earlier that cycle. She knew that the mech would not give her anymore. He'd probably make her do a little 'favors' before he would give her some. Darkstrike wasn't interested. So, she had limped off to see if she had any left in her room where she had taken some of her cubes.<p>

She doubted it, but there was not much else to do. The medic took forever to address her wounds, and Darkstrike was not going to lie around helplessly like last time. Especially not in front of those other mechs and femmes.

Just as Darkstrike took a step forward, she realized that she mistimed it, and collapsed on the metal floor. She groaned and closed her optics as her vision blurred. She shook her helm and struggled to sit up against the wall.

If she had just _waited_ for the medic to come, she wouldn't have been in this situation. But her insatiable thirst for energon to fuel her empty tanks was stronger than patience. She clutched her abdomen and let her legs lay flat on the floor. She vented heavily as she sat there. She let her helm lean back and press against the wall.

As pedesteps began to make themselves audible, her optics opened suddenly. Darkstrike hoped with all her spark that it was not RocketShield. She prayed to Primus that out of all the mechs, it was not him. Her claws clenched on her would with anticipation.

Coming to view was the unmistakable high-ranking Gladiator, Soundwave.

Darkstrike almost wished that it had been RocketShield. She didn't want Soundwave to see her in such a _vulnerable_ state. It would only serve to disappoint him, and her spark didn't seem to want that.

She was leaking and completely at his _mercy_, not that she wasn't before, the only difference now was that she had no energy to defend herself. Darkstrike couldn't help but think of the possibility that he would take a glimpse at her, shake his helm in dismay, and leave her to herself. Part of her was expecting it.

As soon as she thought this, she watched him quicken his pace. Much to her utter shock, the mech knelt beside her and used her sharp fingers to grasp her chin and roughly bring it so that she looked at him. As soon as her optics connected with his visor, she couldn't tear them away. It was as if they were glued on to the face mask he wore.

"Reason of location? Actions: Unintelligent." Soundwave told her. She felt her spark burn with embarrassment at his words, and more because she knew that they were true.

"I am in need of energon." she spoke, her words sounding hoarse and shaky. Soundwave backed up, and for a moment, she thought he would leave. Much to her surprise, he took out a blue cube from his subspace.

It was his energon. She knew it was his. Who else's could it be?

He placed the cube up to the femme's lip components, and Darkstrike's optics widened completely. She had definitely not been expecting this, much less from this mech. Questions began to fill her processor, but before she could contemplate, Soundwave had pushed the cube up to her lips. Darkstrike eagerly drank, and noticed how this energon tasted a little better than hers.

Soundwave had let her drink his whole cube and when there was nothing, he tossed it aside. Darkstrike, now having her fill, had clear vision and was completely aware of her surroundings. She looked at Soundwave with wide red optics.

His helm was tilted down as he was searching for her wounds. He grabbed her servo that was clutched on her abdomen, and he quickly removed it. Darkstrike felt her cheeks flushing at the feeling of his servo momentarily grab hers. She ignored the feeling, and she looked away in slight shame as Soundwave looked at her wound.

She wasn't too happy that she had let her opponent take a hit at her that deep, especially at her protoform.

Soundwave looked down on it and studied the gash. His servo tentatively touched the energon above it, but Darkstrike hissed, making Soundwave immediately retract his fingers. His helm turned up to see her uncomfortable and pained faceplates.

"I will proceed." he stated. Darkstrike gritted her denta again but didn't protest. She did however, emit another groan filled with pain as he addressed the severity. Seeing the femme squirm under his grasp, he spoke again, "Soundwave will proceed."

He subspaced something else and before Darkstrike could object, he had pressed the substance on to her leaking energon. She flinched and grunted at his none-too-soft touch. She wasn't complaining though; the mech had already taken the time to treat it. Gentleness was needed nor asked for.

Then, Soundwave's servo wandered onto her thigh. He lightly gasped the bottom of it, making Darkstrike gasp and her optics to suddenly open wide. Just as he began to pull her thighs open, Darkstrike immediately pressed them together in slight haste. She looked at him nervously as her cheeks flooded with blue.

"Let me assess injuries efficiently." he spoke. His mechanical voice seemed to have eased her a bit and she had let him open her thighs. Darkstrike felt a different type of vulnerability as she felt almost completely exposed to him. It made her spark feel warm, and Darkstrike responded by telling it to shut up.

Soundwave traced his servo up her inner thigh up to the gash she had near the top of it. He was suddenly gentle. Darkstrike refused to admit that she liked the way his sharp finger delicately brushed over her armor with such care... that may or may not had made her spark purr in delight.

He took out more of the substance from his subspace. He rubbed it carefully on her wound, causing Darkstrike to shiver instead of feeling the pain or stinging. When he was finished, his touch lingered as he grasped her thigh completely with his servo.

"Oh my Primus," Darkstrike choked at the was a pleasant sensation even through her numbing wounds. Though, this made any other part of her armor and protoform much more sensitive. And Soundwave refused to let go of her thighs. As Darkstrike made an attempt to close them, his grip tightened on her, making her gasp out.

"Soundwave, I-I am grateful... but I-I do not think that you should trouble yourself with," Darkstrike swallowed, "Assessing my injuries."

"Your health: Assumed to be important to you." he said. Darkstrike averted her gaze. Glowing red optics illuminated her white, almost silver faceplates.

"Yes, but that is only my problem. Not your burden, and I shouldn't assume that you care." she said fearfully down-casting her optics entirely.

Soundwave was quick to dig in her mind and read the thoughts that were on the surface of her processor. The femme was half honest with the response he gave her. Part of the other reason she that didn't want him aiding her in such a close proximity. The femme kept trying to deny to herself that she didn't like him at all, or didn't feel the tingle of her spark every time he touched her in such a way.

It made his spark glitch yet again. It was a feeling, while not entirely displeasing, had been completely unwanted by him. The femme could be easy to manipulate but Soundwave didn't see any other reason why he should invest in it if not for entertainment.

His servo slid from her thigh making a bright blue blush rise on the femme's silver faceplates. He stood up, grasping the femme's arm, pulling her up with him. She complied and grunted in supporting herself.

Though, she didn't dare lean into him, he noticed. That was good; he wouldn't have let her. His hold on her was sufficient enough to make sure Darkstrike did not collapse again. However, even in the contact that he was making with the femme, he made sure that his stance told her that she could not overstep the boundaries.

Darkstrike was quick to learn this as she did not touch him in any form.

"Thank-"

"Gratitude unnecessary." Soundwave quickly interjected. Darkstrike deflated a bit and almost leaned away from the mech, hadn't it been for the servo holding her arm.

"Yes, I figured. Though, I just wanted to-..." she trailed off as Soundwave turned his helm in her direction. The femme suddenly quieted her vocals and lowered her gaze towards the floor.

"Proceed," Soundwave said. Darkstrike hesitated, but continued.

"You say that gratitude is unnecessary because you think nothing of this. Perhaps half of myself thinks of it as that too, but when it is ones own life threatening to extinguish... it... it matters a little more."

"Matters more?" he asked.

"No, I didn't mean it like that, but you can interpret it like that. Sometimes your own life is a bit more important over a strangers."

"Survival: Selfish?" Soundwave asked. Darkstrike was increasingly getting nervous, unsure of how to answer his question. She was afraid to give him a wrong answer; Soundwave was still capable of anything at the moment. Another squeeze of his servo made her answer.

"No. Survival is not selfish. It is simply a matter of not taking the time to save ones spark when yours has the same possibility of perishing too. Either way, it's not like they would do the same, have you see the other castes?"

"Darkstrike's reasoning: Suggests that you should be discarded."

She chocked and nervously squirmed as he tightened his grip even more.

"That was not what I meant for you to comprehend." Darkstrike stuttered.

"Query: Would you assist Soundwave if about to perish?" he asked. Darkstrike's optics widened largely and would have froze if Soundwave hadn't pulled her forward. It was a trick question. He knew it and she knew it...

What would she respond? Should she tell him the truth, or lie? This could easily escalate. Would he get offended...? Well... he's bound to get offended with either response. Maybe... maybe if she gave him the response he was looking for... he would be less offended. Darkstrike hoped so.

Mustering up any courage, she looked straight at him, her faceplates _almost_ showing nothing.

"No." Darkstrike responded. Soundwave turned his helm to look at her. This made her turn away immediately.

Soundwave knew that the femme's response was to be expected, but there was an uncertainty in him that fueled him to pluck the real information from her mind. Soundwave's mind easily and unnoticeable invaded hers... and it didn't take him long to see that she was lying. The femme was lying... for him... to satisfy him.

That meant the femme would actually... save him, contrary to previous bold statement. It was almost befuddling how her opinion changed when the Cybertronian involved was different.

Just as the medic's room came in their view, Darkstrike made a move to leave Soundwave's grasp. Yet, he pulled the femme closer to himself. He lowered himself into her audio and uttered the last few words before he left her to herself,

"Your lies are not obliged but your real truth is appreciated."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Darkstrike was not treated well, but don't worry she eventually will.**

**As for why the Gladiators don't particularly like her... well because they don't trust anyone from higher castes. They dislike the treatment they receive for them, as is expected. Though, I don't plan for her to get hated for so long. **

**Thank you for being patient with my collaborator and I. Next update should not take as long, and even less because half of the chapter is already written out. Until next time!**


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